Education of Man

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m^ WHEELOCK COLLEGE LIBRARY





THE ^^^'it^^^

Education of Man,

BY

FRJEDRICH FROEBEL.

TRANSLATED BY JOSEPHINE JARVIS.

NEW YORK:

A. LOVELL & COMPANY.

1885.



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, by

JOSEPHINE JARVIS,

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington,

J. S. CusHiNG & Co., Pkinteks, Boston.



COJ^TEJSTTS.

PART I.PAGE.

Foundation of the Whole. (Sec. 1 to Sec. 23) 1

PART II.

Man in the Period of his Earliest Childhood. (Sec. 24 to

Sec. 44) 24

PART III.

Man as a Boy. (Sec. 45 to Sec. 55) 57

PART IV.Man as a Scholar :

1. What is School? (Sec. 56 to Sec. 57) 79

2. What shall Schools Teach ? (Sec. 58 to Sec. 59) 85

3. Concerning the Principal Groups of Instruction :

A. Concerning Religion and Religious Instruction. (Sec. 60 to

Sec. 61) 86

B. Concerning Physics and Mathematics. (Sec. 62 to Sec. 76) . 94

c. Concerning Language and Instruction in Language. (Sec. 77

to Sec. 83) 138

D. Concerning Art and the Subjects of Art. (Sec. 84 to Sec. 85) 151

4. Concerning the Connection between School and Family, and

the Subjects of Instruction Conditioned by this Connection

A. General Contemplation. (Sec. 86 to Sec. 87) 154

B. Particular Consideration of the Individual Subjects of In-

struction :

a. Vivification and Cultivation of the Religious Sense. (Sec. 88

to Sec. 89) 160

6. Respect for, Knowledge and Cultivation of the Body. (Sec. 90) 168

c. Contemplation of Nature and of the Outside Wôrld. (Sec. 91) 170

d. Appropriation of Little Poetical Representations Comprising

Nature and Life, and used Especially for Singing. (Sec. 92) 189



IV CONTENTS.

PAGE,

e. Exercises in Language Proceeding from the Contemplation

of Nature and the Outside World. (Sec. 93) 195

/. Kepresentations in Space. (Sec. 94) 204

g. Drawing in Net. (Sec. 95) 209li. Comprehension of Colors. (Sec. 96) 221

i. Play 228

k. Stories. (Sec. 97) 229

I. Short Excursions and Long Walks. (Sec. 98) 233

m. Knowledge of Number. (Sec. 99) 236

n. Knowledge of Forms. (Sec. 100) 249

0. Exercises in Speech. (Sec. 101) 252

j>. Writing. (Sec. 102) 261

q. Reading. (Sec. 103) . 267

r. Survey and Conclusion of the Whole. (Sec. 104) .... 269



AMERICAN PREFACE.

By Elizabeth P, Peabody.

THIS first work of Frederic Froebel, published in 1827, is impera-

tively called for by the American public, which has become so

widely unpressed with the value of his System of Education. This

system embodies the wisdom of ages, and is founded upon a deeper

insight into the nature of childi'en than has been expressed by

any others, with the exception of him who pronounced them " of th-e

kingdom of Heaven."

He had been for ten years engaged with friends in an attempt to

educate children, who come to him at ten years old, and who, he

found, had at that age much to unlearn. His work is addressed to

mothers, whom he thought at the moment the only persons competent

to educate children into the harmony of heart, intellect, and hand,

during the first seven years of their age. It has in it all the elements

of kindergarten nurture ; for he tells what children need and must

have for development. But in the course of the next twelve years he

learned that no mortal mother could have the strength to do all that

is due to children in order that justice may be done to their natures,

but that she must have assistance ; and he invented the kindergarten

in 1839, in which he proposed that from twelve to twenty-five children

should be gathered for three hours every day, from several families,

under the care of a mother's assistant, whom he called a kinder-

gartner, and be played with in the mother's genial, cherishing way

till old enough to be sent to school and taught to read at seven years

of age, which he thought early enough to teach them the signs of the

ideas they would have acquired by the cultivation of their perceptive

and artistic faculties, their observation, attention, and colloquial use



VI AMEKICAN PREFACE.

of language. Children are to be guided to make a beginning in all

the arts and sciences without interference with their spontaneity,

the instinct of imitation being so used as to give them order without

constraining them.

The "" Mother-Love and Xursery Songs " were translated by the

same able hand, and published in Boston by the mmiificent assistance

of Mrs. Quincy Shaw. This book has been used as the Manual for

training Kindergartners by Miss Blow of St. Louis, and other emi-

nent teachers. It will be found very valuable in educating mothers

into wise cooperation with the kindergartners, as well as in educat-

ing kindergartners into sympathy with mothers.

There is another volume, consisting of articles published by

Froebel in periodicals, which were edited by Wichard Lange after

his death; and we hope to see it published by another year; for

these three volumes would give us all the written works of this great

educational genius. Miss Jarvis has it in translation.



WHEELOCK COLLEGE LIBRARY

Paet I.

FOUNDATION OF THE WffOLK

Section 1.

Ax eternal law acts and rules in all. It has expressed and now

expresses itself outwardly in Xature, as well as inwardly in the

spirit and in life, which unites the two; it has expressed and now^^Wv^

expresses itself with equal clearness and precision to him whose heart

and faith are inevitably so filled, penetrated, and living, that he can-

not be otherwise than heis ;

orto

him whoseclear, quiet, spii'itual '

j_,

eye sees into the outward, and perceives the inward by means of the^''

outward, and sees the outward necessarily and surely proceed from

the nature of the inward. An all-working, self-animating, self-know-

ing— therefore eternally existing— unity necessarily lies at the foun-

dation of this all-ruling law. This law works in like manner again;

so that it, the unity itself, vivified, comprehensively recognized through

faith or through perception, has been always surely recognized at all

times by a quiet, thoughtful intellect, by a bright, clear human spirit

and always will be recognized by such a mind and spirit.

This unity is God.

All has proceeded from God, and is limited by God alone : in God

is the sole origin of all things.

God rests, acts, rules, in all.

All rests, lives, exists, in God and through God.

All things exist only because the divine works in them.

The divine which works in each thing is the nature of each thing.

Section 2.

The destiny, as well as the vocation, of all things is to represent

their nature through development, and thus the divine in them ; to

make known and manifest God in the outward and transitory things.



2 EDUCATION OF MAN.

The special destiny, as well as the particular vocation, of man as an

understanding and rational being, is to bring his nature, the divine

in him, thus God, and his destiny, his vocation, himself, to complete

consciousness, to vivid recognition, to clear insight, and with self-

determination and freedom to practise all this in his own life, to

allow it to act, to manifest it.

To treat man as a thinking, understanding being, who is becoming

conscious of himself ; to mcite him to the pure, unviolated represen-

tation of the inner law, of the God-like, with consciousness and self-

determination;and to produce ways and means for this representation,

is to educate man.

Section 8.

To recognize and become conscious of this eternal law, to discern

its foundation, its nature, the wholeness, the coherence and the activity

of its workings, to know life, to know life in its totality, is science,

— the science of life.

And the representation and practice by the conscious, thinking,

understanding being, is the science of education.

The precept for a thinking, understanding being to become con-

scious of his vocation, and to attain his destiny, which proceeds from

the recognition of, and insight into, this law, is a theory of education.

By independent action to apply this recognition and insight to

direct development and cultivation of the reasoning being to the

attainment of his destiny, is the art of education.

The aim of education is to represent life, pure, inviolable, true to

its vocation, and therefore holy.

Recognition and application, consciousness and representation,

united in living a pure, holy life, true to its vocation, form the wis-

dom of life,— are wisdom itself.

Section 4.

To be wise is the highest effort of man, his highest act of self-

determination.

To educate one's self and others, to educate consciously, freely, and

self-determinately, is the dual act of wisdom ; it began with the first

appearance of the individual human being upon earth, and was there

with the first appearance of complete self-consciousness of the indi-

vidual being; it begins now to express itself as a necessary general



FOUNDATION OF THE WHOLE. 8

requirement of humanity, and as such to find a hearing and to be

applied. This act is the first step upon the path which alone leads to

life ; which surely leads to the fulfilment of the inner, and through

this also to the fulfilment of the outer, requirements of the humannature

;which leads to blessed living, to a pure, holy life, true to its

vocation.

Section 5.

The divine in man, his nature, therefore, is to be and must be

developed to consciousness by education ; and man must be raised to

free, conscious living in accordance with the divine, thus to free repre-

sentation of the divine which acts within him.

Education should and must bring man to perceive and recognize

the divine which is in Xature, which forms the character of Xature,

and is abidingly expressed in it : education should also express and

represent Natm-e and the divine in lively reciprocal action, and, united

with this instruction, should represent the similarity of laws between

the two, as well as between Mature and man.

Education in its totality is to raise to consciousness in man, and to

make efficient in life, the fact that man and Xature proceeded from

God, are limited by him, and rest in him.

Education is to guide man to clearness about himself and in him-

self, to peace with Nature, and to union with God; therefore it is

to raise man to the recognition of himself and of humanity, to the

recognition of God and Xature, and to the pure, holy life thereby

conditioned. -

Section 6.

But in all these requirements education is founded upon the inward

and innermost.

Every thing inward is recognized from the inward to the outward

and by means of the outward. The nature, the divine, the spirit of

things and of man, are recognized by their utterances. If for man,

now, the utterances of man and of things are the same with which all

education, all instruction, all life, connects itseK as a product of free-

dom, and, proceeding from the outer to the inner, acts and argues,

nevertheless education cannot directly argue from the outer to the

inner; but the nature of things requires that always, in whatever

reference, it is to be argued from the outer to the inner, and from the

inner to the outer. So it is inadmissible to argue from the manifold-



4 EDUCATION OF MAN.

ness and plurality in Xature to a plan of the ultimate limitation of

Nature, or to a plurality of gods ; it is equally inadmissible to argue

from the unity of God to a finality of Nature ; but in both cases the

argument must proceed from the manifoldness in Nature to the unity

of its ultimate origin, G.od, and from the unity of God to the eternally

continuing manifoldness of the developments of Nature.

The non-application of the truth I have just expressed, but much

more the constant sinning against it, the direct conclusion from cer-

tain outward phenomena in child-life and boy-life upon the inner life

of child and boy, is the most essential ground of the combating, oppos-

ing phenomena of the abortive attempts so frequentin life

andin

education. This is certainly the foundation of many mistakes with

regard to children, boys and youths ; of so many failures in the educa-

tion of children; of so much misunderstanding between j)arent and

child, either on one side or another; of so much unnecessary com-

plaint, as well as of unseemly arrogance and foolish expectation on

the part of the children. Therefore the ap^Dlication of this truth is

so highly important for parents, educators, and teachers, that they

should collectivelj'- exert themselves to become familiar with even the

minutiae of its application. This would bring into the relations

between parents and children, pupils and educators, scholars and

teachers, a clearness, a certainty, even a repose, which are now vainly

striven for. Since the child who outwardly appears good is often in

himself not good,— that is, he does not Avill the good from his own

determination, or from love, respect, or recognition of it ,— so the out-

wardly rough, defiant, self-willed child, who therefore does not appear

good from his own determination, or from love, respect, or recognition

of it, has often within himself the most active, eager, vigorous strug-

gles toward representation of the good by his own determination ; the

outwardly absent-minded boy has within himself an abiding, fixed

thought which will not let him pay attention to outside things.

Section 7.

Therefore education, instruction, and teaching should in the first

characteristics necessarily be passive, watchfully and protectively fol-

lowing, not dictatorial, not invariable, not forcibly interfering.



FOUNUATIOK OF THE AVHOLE.

Section 8.

But education in itseK must necessarily be passive, watchfully and

protectively following ; for the effect of the divine is, when undisturbed,

necessarily good : in fact, it cannot be otherwise than good. This

necessity must presuppose that the still young human being, even

though as yet unconsciously, like a product of JJv'ature, precisely and

surely wills that which is best for himself, and, moreover, in a form

quite suitable to him, and which he feels within himself the disposi-

tion, power, and means to represent. So the young duckling hastens

to the pond and into the water, while the chicken scratches in theearth, and the 3'oung swallow catches his food on the wing, and rarely

touches the earth. Xow, whatever may be said against the truth of

reversed conclusions before expressed, and this truth of cautious fol-

lowing, and also against the application of both to education, and

however much these truths may be contested, yet they will vindicate

themselves in their clearness and truth to that generation which,

wholly confiding in them, applies them.

We give time and space to young plants and young animals, know-

ing that they then beautifully unfold, and grow well, in conformity

with the laws which act in each individual ; we let them rest, and

strive to avoid powerfully interfering influences upon them, knowing

that these influences disturb their pure unfolding and healthy develop-

ment : but the young human being is to man a piece of wax, a lump

of clay, from which he can mould what he will.— Men, who wander

through your fields, gardens, and groves, why do you not open your

minds to receive what N'ature in dumb speech teaches you ? Look at

the plants which you call weeds, and which, grown up here compressed

and constrained, scarcely permit one to guess at their inner symmetry

but look at them in free space, in field and flower-bed, and see what a

symmetry, what a pure inner life they show, harmonizing in all parts

and expressions : a regular sun, a radiating star of the earth, springs up.

So, parents, your children on whom you early impress form and voca-

tion against their nature, and who therefore wander around you in lan-

guor and unnaturalness, might also become beautiful, self-unfolding,

and all-sided self-developing beings.

All active, dictatorial, invariable, and forcibly interfering educa-

tion and instruction must necessarily have a disturbing, checking,

and destructive effect upon the action of the divine, in accordance

with and upon the original, unviolated, and healthy state of the



6 EDUCATIOX OF MAK.

human being. So, continuing to learn from Xature, the plant, the

grape-vine, must be pruned; but the pruning, as such, brings no

more wine from the grape-vine. Rather the grape-vine may be

wholly destroyed by the pruning, however good may be the inten-

tion in doing it; at least, its fruitfulness and capacity for bearing

fruit are injured if the gardener, in his work, does not passively and

thoughtfully follow the nature of the plant. We very frequently

take the right steps in oui- treatment of the objects of Nature,

while we go wrong in the management of human beings. And

yet there act in both, powers which flow from one fountain, and

which act according to the same laws. It is therefore veryimpor-

tant for man to observe and consider Nature from this point of view.

Nature, indeed, rarely shows us now that unviolated, original con-

dition, especially in regard to man ; but so much the more must it be

presupposed, especially of the human being, so long as the opposite

has not expressed itself VN'ith clearness, because otherwise the unvio-

lated original condition, even where it might still be found, could

still be easily destroyed. But if the certainty of the infraction of the

original proceeds from the totality of the human being who is to be edu-

cated ; if this infraction from the inner and outer whole is certain,— in

that case, strictly requiring ways of education enter in their full force.

But, further, the interrupted putting-forth of the inward is not

always proved with certainty, is, indeed, often difficult to prove ; at

least this applies to the point, the fountain in which the infraction

has its foundation and beginning, and to the direction which it took.

The last infallible test lies only in man himself. Therefore, from this

point of view, education and all instruction must be much more pas-

sive and following than dictatorial and prescriptive ; because, through

the pure, onward development, the sure, constant progression of the

human race— that is, the representation of the divine in man and

through the life of man freely and by its own wdll (which, indeed, is

the aim and endeavor of all education and all life, as well as the sole

destiny of man)— will be lost utterly.

Therefore the purely requiring, defining, and directing way of edu-cating man begins first with the beginning of his understanding of

himself,— with the beginning of the connected life of God and man,—after the beginning of understanding and the common life between

father and son, youth and master, because then the true can be derived

from the nature of the whole and the nature of the individual, and can

then be recognized.




Before, therefore, the disturbance and infraction of the original

healthy condition of the pupil is proved and clearly recognized, there

remains nothing to do but to bring him into relations with those

around him who will observe him on all sides, in whom his behavior

is portrayed to him on various sides as in a mirror, and in whom he

easily and quickly recognizes it in its effects and results ; by whom,

therefore, the true situation with respect to himself and others can

be easily recognized, where the outbreaks of the inner disturbance of

life will be the least harmful.

Section 9.

The directing, interfering education has in general only two things

in its favor,— either the clear, vivid thought, the true, self-proved, vivi-

fied idea, or the exemplar already previously existing and recognized.

But where the seK-grounded, vivid thought offers and j^rescribes that

which is in itself true, there the eternal rules, as it were, and just on

that account it comes forth again as passive and following. For the

vivid thought, the eternal itself, as such, requires and conditions free

self-activity and self-determination of man, of the being created for

freedom, and resemblance to God.

Section 10.

But the most complete exemplar previously existing and recog-

nized, the most complete model life, will only be a model in its nature,

its efforts, but never in its form. It is the greatest misunderstanding

of all spiritual human exemplars when they are taken as models in

respect to form. Hence the frequent discoveiy that the phenomenon

of the exemplar, if it become the pattern, acts restrictingiy, indeed

deterioratingiy, instead of eleyatiiigly, on the human race.

Section 11.

Jesus himself, therefore, combated throughout his life and teach-ings this clinging to external models : only the spiritual, striving,

active exemplar should be held fast as a type, but the form of it should

be left free. The highest, most perfect model life which we Christians

see in Jesus, the highest which humanity knows, is that which clearly

and vividly recognized the original and primal cause of his being, of

his semblance, and of his life, which, self-active and self-dependent,



8 EDUCATION OF ]\IAN.

proceeded by eternal conditions in accordance with the eternal law,

from the eternally living, eternally creating One. And this highest,

eternal, model life itself requires that each man should be again such

a copy of his perpetual model, that he himself should become such a

pattern for himself and for others, that he should advance according

to eternal laws freely, by his own determination and his own choice.

This indeed is, and this only should be, the task and aim of all educa-

tion. Therefore even the eternal Exemplar himself is passive and

following in the requirement of form.

Section 12.

But nevertheless, as we see by experience, the vivid thought, the

eternal spiritual exemplar must, according to its nature, determine

and require ; and so it does. But we see, that, though it is indeed

requiring and strict in its summons, it makes an inexorable and limit-

less stand at the point (but only at the point) where the requirement

expresses itself with necessity from the nature of . the whole and of

the individual, and can be recognized as such w^hen the exemplar

speaks as the organ of the necessity, and therefore only conditionally.

The exemplar only comes forward with requirements where it presup-

poses coming in to the others in the principle of the requirement

from the spirit, conceiving them, or believing them from the intellect,

therefore, either in untroubled childlike relations, or in clear, at least

beginning manlike relations. Indeed, in these cases the exemplar

makes its requirements either by example or by word, but always

only in reference to spirit and life, never in reference to form.

In good education, in genuine instruction, in true teaching, there-

fore, necessity must call forth freedom; and law, self-determhiation

the pressure from without, the free will within ; the hate from

without, the love within. All education— every effect of education,

teaching, and instruction— is destroyed where hate produces hate,

where law produces deceit and crime, where pressure produces

slavery and necessity servitude, where oppression destroys anddebases, where strength and hardness produce contumacy and false-

hood. In order to avoid these evils and to attain the good results, all

that is apparently prescribing must follow^ in its action. This takes

place when all education with its necessary determining requirements,

stepping forth in all particulars and ramifications, has this undeniable,

resistless imprint, that the requiring one himself is strictly and inevi-




tably subjected to a perpetually govêrning law, to an unavoidable

perpetual necessity ; thus all arbitrariness is banished.

Section 13.

All true educators must at each instant, in all theii* requirements

and designs, be at the same time two-sided,— giving and taking, unit-

ing and separating, dictating and following, acting and enduring,

deciding and setting free, fixed and movable ; and the pupil must be so

also. But between the two, educator and' pupil, demand and result,

there must be an invisible third— to Avhich educator and pupil arealike and equally subjected— to choose the best, the right necessarily

proceeding from the conditions, and voluntarily expressing itself.

The quiet recognition, the clear knowledge of the choice of this thii'd,

and the serene submission to the choice, are what must express them-

selves in the educator undeviatingiy and purely, but must often be

firmly and earnestly expressed by him. The child, the pupil, has

such a correct discernment, such a right feeling for recognizing

whether what the educator or father expresses and requires is

expressed by him personally and arbitrarily, or generally and as a

necessity, that the child, the pupil, rarely makes a mistake in this.

Sectiox 14.

This submission to an invariable third, to which the pupil as well

as the educator is subjected, must therefoi-e express itself even in

detail in every requirement of the educator. Therefore the necessary

general formula of instruction is as follows : do this, and see what

results from your action in this precise respect, and to what discovery

it leads you— and so the direction for life for each human being is,

represent your spiritual nature, your life outwardly and by means of

the outward in action, and see what yom- nature requires, and how it

is constituted.

Jesus himself invites in this direction to the recognition of the

truth of his teaching, and therefore this is the direction for attaining

to the recognition of all life, of the principle and nature of all life

and of all truth.

In this direction is solved and explained the following require-

ment, and through it is given at once the manner of its solution and

fulfilment. The educator must make the individual and particular



10 EDUCATION OF MAN.

general; lie must make the general individual and particular, and

prove the existence of l>oth. He must make the external internal,

and the internal external, and show the necessary unity for both ; he

must consider the finite infinite, the infinite finite, and balance both in

life. He must perceive and contemplate the divine in the human,

and evince the nature of man in God, and strive to represent both in

one another in life.

This is what proceeds from the nature of man the more clearly and

precisely, and expresses itself the more undeniably, the more man

observes human development in himself, in the immature human

being, and in the race.

Section 15.

Since, then, to demonstrate the infinite in the finite, the eternal in

the temporal, the heavenly in the earthly, the divine in the human, in

the life of man, hj fostering his original divine nature on every side,

appears irrefutably to be the only aim of all education, so, proceed-

ing from this, the only true standpoint, man must be considered and

fostered even from birth, as indeed it was with Mary even from the

moment of annunciation, while yet invisible, while yet unborn.

Every human being must be recognized and fostered in accordance

with his eternal, immortal nature, as the divine shown in human

form, as a pledge of the love, the nearness, the favor of God, as a gift

of God : this the first Christians actually recognized their children to

be, as is testified by the names they gave to them.

Every human being, even as a child, must be recognized, acknowl-

edged, and fostered as a necessary and essential member of humanity;

and so the parents should feel and recognize themselves responsible

as fosterers, to God, to the child, and to humanity.

Not less, also, should parents observe and consider the child in

necessary connection, in clear relation, and in vivid reference to the

present, past, and future of human development, and so place the

cultivation, the education of the child in connection, accord, and har-

mony with the present, past, and future demands of the developmentof man and of the human race : therefore the child should be observed,

considered, and treated as a human being with divine, earthh', and

human attributes, related to God, to nature, and to man; and thus

at the same time a unity, an individuality, and a manifoldness

therefore also comprising and bearing within itself, present, past, and

future.




Section 16.

So the man, and humanity in man, must be vieTred as an outside

appearance, must be viewed, not as abeady become perfect, not as

fixed and stationary, but as constant, yet always progressively de-

veloping ; eternally living, yet always advancing from one stage of

development to another, and toward the aim resting in the supreme

and eternal.

It is inexpressibly injurious to view the development and cultiva-

tion of humanity as stationary, concluded, and at the present time

onlyrepeating itself in greater

universality. Forthe child,

as well aseach following generation, becomes thus absolutely an imitating, an

outwardly dead copy of the preceding one, but not a living model for

the future, to futm-e generations, for the stage of development on which

it stood in the totality of human development. Indeed, each follow-

ing generation and each following individual man is to pass through

the whole earlier development and cultivation of the human race,—and he does pass through it ; otherwise he would not understand the

world past and present,— but not by the dead way of imitation, of

copying, but by the living way of individual, free, active development

and cultivation. Each man is to represent this development and culti-

vation again freely, as a type to himself and to others ; for in each

man, as a member of humanity and a child of God, is contained all

humanity which is rej^resented by, and imprinted on, each in a quite

peculiar, individual, personal way, and must be rejDresented in each

individual man in this peculiar way ; so that the nature of mankind

and of God in his infiniteness, and as comprising all manifoldness,

may be more and more recognized, and more vividly and precisely

anticipated.

Onl}' by this single creating and satisfying, all-embracing and

comprehensive recognition of man, and insight into the nature of

man, from which flows all that is further necessary to know for the

fostering and education of man,— only by this view of man from the

beginning, can the true, genuine education and fostering of mangrow, blossom, bring forth fruit, and ripen.

Section 17.

From these premises proceeds simply, precisely, and sm*ely, all

which parents have to do before and after the annunciation,— to be



12 _ EDUCATION OF MAN.

pure and clear in Mord and deed, filled and penetrated by the worth

and dignity of the human being ; to view themselves as the keepers,

protectors, and fosterers of a gift of God ; and to inform themselves

concerning the vocation and destiny of man, the way in which, and

the means by which, man attains his destiny and vocation. As now

the vocation of the child as such is to develop and form the nature

of the father and mother, the spuitual and intellectual nature,— for

which the talents and the strength may lie in them as yet unknown

and unanticipated,— in accord and harmony, so the destiny of man

as a child of God and of Nature is to represent the nature of God and

of Nature, the natural and the divine, the earthly and the heavenly,

the finite and the infinite, in accord and harmony. As the destiny of

the child as a memher of a family is to develop and represent the

nature of the family, the talents and powers of the family in accord,

all-sidedness, and clearness, so the destiny of man as a memher of

humanity is to develop, cultivate, and represent the nature, the powers,

and talents of all humanity.

Section 18.

But the children and members of a family as such develop and

represent most purely and completely the nature of the parents and of

the family— which nature may rest in the family, though as yet not at

all recognized nor come out, even in anticipation— when each of the

children and members develops and represents itself most comj)letely,

clearly,

andall-sidedly, and yet most individually and personally;

and so also, men, as children of God and members of humanity, repre-

sent most purely and completely the joint nature of God and humanity

— which is in humanity, although by no means as yet generally rec-

ognized and acknowledged—when each individual human being, each

individual child, forms and represents itself most peculiarly and per-

sonally. This is done when man develops and forms himself in the

way, and in accordance with the law, by which all things develop

and improve, have developed and improved, and which rules and

obtains everywhere where being and existence, creator and created,

God and Xature, are found ; when each man himself represents his

nature in unity in itself, in individuality by any individual production

outside of himself (principally and especially in clearness and com-

pleteness), and in all manifoldness in all which is acted upon by him,

by all which he does. But only in this threefold representation, which




is 5êt in itself one and uniform, is the demonstration, manifestation,

and consequently revelation, of the inner nature of each being com-

plete. Where one side of this threefold representation is lacking,

either in fact, or even only in recognition, insight, and acknowledg-

ment, there is imperfect, incomplete representation, incomplete hin-

dering insight. Only in this way does each thing become known

and manifest in its unity according to its nature, and on all sides

only the acknowledgment and application of this triple representation

of each thing, if it is to completely make known and reveal its nature,

lead to the complete representation of each thing, to true insight

into its nature.

Section 19.

Therefore the child, the young human being, must, even from his

birth, be received in accordance with his nature, rightly treated, and

established in the free, all-sided use of his power. The use of some

powers and members at the expense of others should not be pro-

moted, nor should the latter be checked in their unfolding : the child

should neither be partially chained, fettered, or swathed, nor later

kept in leading-strings. The child should early learn to find his own

centre of gravity, to rest in it ; resting in it to move, to move freely

and to be active, to grasp things with his own hands and to hold them

fast, to stand and walk on his own feet, to find and look at things

with his own ejês, and to use all his limbs equally and with equal

strength. The child must early learn and practise the highest and

mostdifficult of all the arts, — to hold fast the central point and point

of reference of his life's path in spite of all disguises, distm^bances,

and hindrances.

Section 20.

The first expression of the child is that of force. The intrusion

of force calls forth opposing force : hence the first cry. of the child,

hence his pushing with his feet against whatever resists them, hence

his holding fast what his little hand touches.

Soon after this, and accompanying it, develops the feeling of com-

munity : hence his laughter, his well-being, his joyousness, his mova-

bility in comfortable warmth, in clear light, and in pure, fresh air.

This is the beginning of the child's becoming conscious of himself;

and so the first expressions of the child are rest and unrest, pleasure

and pain, laughing and crying. Rest, pleasure, and laughter indicate




all which in the sensation of the child is suited to the pure, undis-

turbed development of his human nature, of the child-life. The first

educating, the development, elevation, and representation of life, must

be connected with fostering and keeping pure the rest, pleasure, and

laughter which are the indications of the child's nature.

Unrest, pain, and crying indicate, when they first appear, all

which is opposed to the development of man as a child. Following

out these indications also, but in an opposite way, education must be

connected with their workings ; efforts must be made to find out and

remove their cause or causes.

In the veryfirst,

but almost only in the veiy first, appearance ofcrying, unrest, weeping, all obstinacy and wilfulness are certainly

foreign to the child ; but these feelings germinate as soon as there

comes to the little being who has scarcely appeai'ed as a human plant

— it is not yet proved in what way or in what degree— a feeling that

it is wilfully, or from inattention or idleness, abandoned to what

causes it unrest, and brings pain.

Now, when the child is inoculated with this unhappy feeling, then

is engendered the first and most hateful of all errors,—obstinacy, which

threatens ruin to the child and to those w^ho are wîth it, and w^hich

is scarcely to be banished without injury to another better disposition

in man, and which soon becomes the mother of dissimulation, lying,

defiance, contumacy, and all later errors, as sad as they are hateful.

But even in entering on the right way there may be mistakes in

manner and form of action.

Man is to be trained up, according to his nature and destiny, by

the endm-ance of little, insignificant troubles, to the endm-ance of

greater suffering and heavier burdens which threaten destruction.

If, therefore, the parents and those who are around the child have the

firm conviction that the crying, restless child has been provided with

all it needs at the time, that every thing has been removed that is or

can be prejudicial, then the parents not only can, but should, quietly

and silently leave the crying, restless, even screaming child to itself,

and calmly give it time to find itself ; for if the little being has onceor repeatedly, by apparent suffering, and discomfort easy to be borne,

extorted the sympathy and help of others, parents and those around

the child have lost much, indeed almost every thing, whicli can scarcely

be again regained by force ; for the little being has so fine a sense of

the weakness of some of tliose who tend him, that he prefers to use

the power originally living and acting in him in the easier way offered



fou^ndation of the whole. 15

him by the weakness of others, to rule them, rather than to represent

and cnltivate this power in himself by his own patience, endurance,

and action. At this stage, the future man is called a suckling, and is

so in the fullest sense of the word ; for sucking in is as yet the almost

only activity of the child;(does he not suck in the condition of the

human beings around him ?) and the before-named expressions, " cry-

ing" and "laughing," remain as yet wholly within him, and as yet a

direct, inseparable effect of that activity.

Man at this stage takes in manifoldness only from without : his

whole being is here only an appropriating eye. For this reason even

this first stage ofman's development

is

beyond all description impor-tant for man's present and future. It is highly important for his

present and futm-e life, that at this stage he should absorb nothing

diseased, low, vulgar, equivocal, in short, evil. Therefore the glance,

the expression of face, of those around the child should be pure, firm,

and sure, awakening and nourishing confidence. Even the surround-

ings, however inadequate they may otherwise be, should be pure and

clear,— pure air, clear light, clear space.

For alas ! man often scarcely overcomes through his whole life that

which he has absorbed in his childhood, the impressions of his youth,

just because his whole being was, like a great eye, opened to these

impressions, and abandoned to them. Often the hardest combats of

man with himseK, even the later most adverse and oppressive events

of his life, have in this stage of development their cause : therefore is

the fostering of the infant so important.

Mothers who have nursed some of then* children and not others,

and who have observed both in the expressions of their later life, can

decide on this subject with precision. Mothers also know that the

first laughter of the child marks so precise a portion of time and

development in the child's life, that it is at least the expression of the

first physical discovery of individuality, if not far more than that.

For this first child-laughter has its foundation, not only in a physical

feeling of individuality, but also in a physical and yet higher common

feeling, at first between mother and child, then with the father andother members of the family, later between brothers and sisters, all

human beings and the child.

Section 21.

This first feeling of community which at first unites the child with

mother, father, brothers, and sisters, at the foundation of which lies



16 EDUCATION OF ]VIAN'.

the higher spiritual union, with \yhich is later connected the indubi-

table perception that father, mother, brothers, sisters, human beings,

feel and recognize themselves in unity and union with a higher,

with humanity and with God— this feeling of community is the most

extreme germ, the most extreme point of all genuine religiousness, of

all genuine effort for unhindered union with the eternal— with God.

Genuine, true, living religion, abiding in danger and in combat, in

oppression and in need, in pleasure and joy, must come to man in

infancy ; for the divine, existent and manifest in the finite in man,

is early conscious that it has proceeded from the divme, though with

dim anticipation ; and this dim anticipation, this less than nebulous

consciousness must be early fostered and strengthened and nourished

in man, and later raised to consciousness.

When the slumbering child is laid by its mother in its soft, safe

crib, with an inward soulful glance up to his and her heavenly Father

for fatherly protection and loving guidance, it therefore not only

rouses the still and invisible observation of the child, but brings to it

the eternal welfare and blessing. When the child has awakened with

joyous laughter, and the mother takes it from the crib with a glad,

silent, grateful glance to his and her Father for the rest and strength

which he has sent, with lips moving with this gTatitude for the child

thus presented to her anew, it is not merely arousing and highly

delightful, but also important and rich in blessing for the whole pres-

ent and future life of the child, and has the most beneficial influence

for the w^hole time of the common life between child and mother

which now follows. Therefore the genuine mother is not willing to

allow any one else to bring to its crib the sleeping child, or to take

from it the awakened child. The child so fostered by its mother is

placed in its little crib well, in relation to its earthly, human, heavenly

nature, if placed there with a prayer : by God's help man rests in God

— the last point of reference as well as the first point of beginning.

If parents desire to provide for their children this never wavering

hold, this never vanishing point of reference, as the highest portion

forlife,

then parents and child must show themselves always fer-

vently inwardly and outwardly united when, in a quiet room or in the

open air, they feel and recognize themselves in union with their God

and Father in prayer. Xo one should ever say, " The children will not

understand it," for this robs the children utterly of their highest life.

They do understand it, and will understand it, if only they are not

already run wild, if only they are not already too much estranged



FOU^'DATION OF THE WHOLE. 17

from themselves and from their parents : they understand it, not in

idea, but in their inner nature. Religiousness, fervid living in God

and with God in all conditions and circumstances of life, which does

not thus grow up from childhood with man, is later only with extreme

difficulty raised to full vigorous life ; as, on the contrary, a religious

sense thus germinated and fostered amid all the storms and dangers

of life will gain the victory. This is the fruit of the earlier and earli-

est religious parental example, even though the child does not appear

to notice or take it in ;and this is true of the living, parental example

in every case.

Section 22.

It is highly important, not only in reference to the cultivation of

the divine and religious in man, but for his entu'e cultivation, that his

development should constantly advance from one point, and should be

as constantly recognized and observed in its advance. It is essentially

injurious, hindering, even destructive, when such sharp limits and

separating opposition are made to the constantly continuing series of

the years of human development, that the abidingly continuing and

vividly connecting aim of life is wholly withdrawn from observation.

It is therefore essentially injm-ious when the stages of human develop-

ment—those of infant, child, boy and girl, youth and maiden, man and

woman, old man and matron— are considered as essentially separate,

and not, as life shows, continually passing into one another without

gaps; it is much more injurious to consider the child, the bo}^, as

something wholly different from the youth, the man, so different that

the conception, the understanding, and the word of their common

humanity scarcely shines through ; but this common humanity is

almost wholly ignored in life and for life. And yet it is actually so,

for one may observe how it is shown in common speech and life that

the child, and boy even, are so wholly separate ; the later stages speak

of the earlier as of something wholly different from them, something

quite foreign to them ; the boy no longer sees the child in himself, and

does not see the boy in the child ; the youth no longer sees the boyand child in himself, nor does he see the youth in either of these ; he

superciliously overlooks, and turns away from them. But most harm-

ful of all is, that man especially no longer perceives in himself the

infant, the child, the boy, the youth, the earlier stages of develoi3ment,

but rather speaks of the child, the boy, the youth, as of beings of a

wholly different kind, with wholly different natures and qualities.






only in proportion as they have lived through and in accordance with,

and in reference to, each of the stages of their nature, which, accord-

ing to their requirements, the child is to overleaj).

This view, and this undervaluing- of the earlier stages of develop-

ment in reference to the later one (especially of the earliest), is what

places such difficulties in the way of the future educator and teacher

of the boy,— difficulties scarcely to be removed, since at once the boy

thus placed also thinks that he can overleap each instruction of the

earlier stage of development ; and it has an extremely injurious, weak-

ening effect on him, if he is early given an aim toward which to

strive, a something foreign to and outside of himself to imitate ; such

as, for example, training for a certain profession, a certain sphere of

action. The child, the boy, man in general, should have no other

struggle than to be at each stage just what that stage requires.

Then will each following stage sprout like a new shoot from a healthy

bud, and man will, with the same effort, become perfectly what this

stage requires ; for only the sufficing development of man acts in and

upon each preceding and earlier stage, and engenders a satisfactory,

complete development of each following later stage.

Section 23.

These ideas are specially important in regard to the development

and cultivation of man's activity to the point of bringing forth out-

ward results for practical industry.

Man has now, indeed, a pervading, wholly false, outward, and

therefore an untenable conception of work and industry, of activity

for outward results ; that is, of practical work.

This conception does not awaken and nourish life, still less does it

bear within it a germ of life, and it is therefore oppressive, crushing,

abasing, hindering, and destroying.

God creates and works uninterruptedly and continually. Each

thought of God is a work, an act, a result ; and each thought of God

works with continuous creating power, producing and representing."Whoever does not already perceive this fact, let him look at the life

and work of Jesus ; let him look at the genuine life and work of

man; let him look — if he lives truly— at his own life and work.

The spirit of God hovered over the unformed, and moved it; and

stones and plants, animals and men, received form, figure, existence,

and life. God created man m his own image, in the image of God




created he him. Therefore man must create and work like God.

Man's spirit must hover over the unformed, and move it, tliat figure

and form may come forth. This is the high sense, the deep signifi-

cance, the great object, of work and industry, of working and cre-

ating, as it is truly and significantly called.

We become like God by diligence and industry, by work and

action, which accompany the clear idea, or even the slightest antici-

pation, indeed only the direct, vivid feeling that we, by this diligence

and activity, represent the internal externally;

give a body to the

spiritual ; form to thought ; visibility to the invisible ; outward,

finite, and transitory existence to the eternal that lives in the spirit

and, by the likeness to God thus obtained, mount more and more

to genuine recognition of God, to insight into the nature of God;

and thus God comes nearer to us outwardly and inwardly There-

fore Jesus said so truly of the poor, " Theirs is the kingdom of

heaven," if they only do their work understandingly and knowingly,

with diligence and industry, producing and creating. Of the chil-

dren, also, is the kingdom of heaven, for they, with childlike trust,

give themselves up willingly to the impulse toward formation andactivity working within them, if not disturbed by the over-wisdom

and presumption of adults.

The lowering idea, the delusion that man works, produces, and

creates, only in order to earn bread, house, and clothes, is to be only

endured, not to be diffused and propagated. No ! man creates origi-

nally and Actually, only that the spiritual and divine in him may

take an external form, and that he may thus recognize his own

spiritual, divine nature and the nature of God. The bread, house,

and clothes coming to him through this working, producing, and

creating, are a sm'plusage and insignificant additions. Therefore

Jesus says, "Seek ye first the kingdom," that is, seek to represent

the divine in your life and by means of your life, then every thing

else which is required for the finite life will be added unto you.

Therefore Jesus says, " My meat is to do the will of Him who sent

me,"— to produce, to create what God has given me in charge, and

as he has given it to me.

Therefore the lilies of the field, which according to human view

do not toil, are clothed by God more splendidly than Solomon in

all his glory ; for do not the lilies shoot forth leaves and blossoms ?

do they not in all their phenomena declare and represent the nature

of God?




The fowls of the air sow not, they toil not, in the human idea; but

do they not by each of their manifestations— by their singing, by their

nest-building, by all their thousand different actions— represent the life

which God has given them ? Therefore God feeds and keeps them.

So shall man learn from the lilies of the field, from the fowls of the

air, always to make known outwardly the nature God has given him,

by deed and work, form and material, in the way required by time and

place, position and calling, be it at the moment as small and insignifi-

cant, or as great and important, as it will. And then shall he be sure

of his maintenance. God will show him a hundred ways; he will

certainly find each time a means, a way of satisfying his earthly needs

by the use of his soul-powers in himself and outside of himself, and

more is not requisite. And if every thing external should pass away,

there would remain to him— not only uncurtailed, but increased— the

developed, divine power to make the need vanish by endurance.

But because an order of time, a gradual succession, limits all spir-

itual workings in the finite, it is inviolably necessary that when man

at any time of his life— be it near or far, early or late— has let slip an

opportunity to outwardly prove his power to be a divine powder, andto elevate it to a work, or at least to unfold it for wôrk, he meets at

some time with a deficiency which is a deficiency in proportion to his

neglected opportunities for developing his power. At least it will not

be to him at any time W'hat it could have been if he had always faith-

fully followed out his vocation, the use of his powder as a divine

power ; for, according to the earthly and universal laws iflfder which

we live, there must come a time in which the product of that neglected

activity should have appeared. Now^, if the activity was neglected,

how can the product come? AYhen this deficiency appears at any

time, there is nothing left for man but to let the second side of his

soul-power, that of resignation and endurance, come into action, and

so make the deficiency disappear, and to strive most zealously to avoid

by efficiency any such deficiency for the future.

There is, then, a double cause, a twofold inalienable requirement,

an inner and an outer, and, since the former includes the latter, ahighly important perpetual requirement that the budding and grow-

ing man be early developed to activity in outside work, in producing;

and this is called for by the nature of man.

The activity of the baby's limbs and senses is the first germ, the

first bodily activity, the bud, the first impulse to formation;

play,

building, forming are the first tender blossoms of youth, and at this



9-^ EDUCATION OF MAN.

point man must be fructified for future industry, diligence, and prac-

tical activity. There is no child, and later no boy and youth, whatever

may be his rank or position, who should not daily devote at least one

or two hours of earnest activity to the production of some definite

outside work. Children now learn and do too much of the unformed

and formless, and too little work, although the learning by work is

immeasurably more impressive and comprehensible, and causes a more

living, continuous development in itself and in the children. Children

and parents consider the activity of actual work so much to then- own

prejudice, and so unimportant for their future position, that educa-

tional institutions must steadfastly endeavor to put a stop to thesenotions. The present home education, as well as the school educa-

tion, leads the children to bodily inactivity and laziness in respect to

work : an immense amount of human power remains thus undevel-

oped, and an immense amount is wholly lost. It would be extremely

beneficial if hours of actual work were introduced, as well as the

present hours of instruction ; and it must yet come to that, for man,

by the unmeaning use of his human power, determined only by the

outward, has lost the inner and outer proportion of this power, and

so has lost the recognition, the estimation, and the true consideration,

of this power.

Highly important as is early training for religion, the early training

for actual working is equally important. Early work guided suitably

to its inner meaning confirms and heightens religion. Religion

without work runs the risk of becoming empty dreaming, passing-

enthusiasm, and an evanescent phantom, as work without religion

makes man a beast of burden or a machine. Work and religion were

simultaneously created by God, — the Eternal of eternity. AVere this

recognized, were men impressed with the truth of it, if they would

act and work in conformity to it, to what a stage the race of man

would soon be raised

But human power should not merely be quiescent, as religion and

religiousness; should not merely show itself outwardly, as industry and

labor; but it should, withdrawing into itself, resting on itself, develop,

form, produce, and in the latter case should show itself as discretion,

temperance, and moderation. AVhat is here more necessary for the

man not wholly estranged than to indicate this fact?— where the

true, unseparated, inward three work in genuine, original union, where

religion, industry, and moderation work in harmony, there is heaven

upon earth, there is peace, joy, salvation, grace, and blessing.



FOUKDATJON OF THE WHOLE. 23

So man in the child regarded as a whole, so the life of humanity

and man in childhood viewed as a unity, so the whole future efficiency

of man, is seen in the child as a germ. And so it must be : man,

in order that he and humanity in him may be wholly developed, must

be viewed, even in the child, in the totality of the earthly references

and in unity. But since all unity demands individualities, and all

all-sidedness demands .conditions and makes necessary a sequence, so,

also, the world and life develop to the child only as individualities,

and in sequence. So, also, the powers, qualities, and inclinations of

man, the activity of his limbs and senses, should be developed in

the necessary succession in which they come forth in the child.





Part II.

MAJY IN THE PERIOD OF HIS EARLIEST

CHILDHOOD,

Section 24.

To the child, the outside world, though consistiug of the same

objects, having the same community of members, appears to come

out from the void at first in misty, formless darkness, in chaotic

confusion, the child and outer viôrld floating therein ; and then the

objects come forth out of this void, this mist, especially by the wordearly interposed by the parents, by the mother, first separating the

child from the outer world, then again uniting him with it. Single

words are at first seldom interposed, but finally more often and in

a greater variety, and thus the child comes out at last as a decidedly

separate object, quite different from all others.

So repeats itself in the mind and spirit, in the history of the

spiritual develoj^ment, in the history of the attained consciousness of

the human being, in each child, in the experience of each child from

its birth onward, the history of the development and creation of all

things as told by the sacred books, up to the jDoint where the man

at last appears, and finds himself in the garden of God, in the beauti-

ful nature Ijîng open before the child ; as later is repeated in each

child, according to its Nature, the same act with which the moral

and human enfranchisement and rationality begins, as the moral

and human enfranchisement, the rationality of the whole humanrace, began, and necessarily, for beings created for freedom, must

begin.

It is left to each individual, especially to each one who is heedful

of his development, to recognize, contemplate, and comprehend all

this, the whole history of the development of the human race, up to

the point at which it now stands, or up to the definite point in itself.



26 EDUCATION OF MAK.

But, that he may be able to do so, each man is called on to recognize

and consider, early and always, his own life and the lives of others

as a continuous whole, developing according to divine laws. Only

in such a way does man understand history, the history of human

development and the history of his own development, the history of

his own heart, mind, and sxîrit ; thus only does he understand others

thus only do jDarents understand their child.

Section 25.

To make the internal external, to make the external internal, to

find the unity for both, is the general outward form in which is

expressed the destiny of man. Therefore every outside object meets

man with the demand to be recognized, and to be acknowledged in

its nature, in its connection. For this purpose man possesses senses,

that is, tools by means of which he meets that demand, which is also

exhaustively and satisfactorily indicated by the word s-inn (sense)

that is, self-active, making eternal.

But each thing is recognized only when it is connected with the

opposite of its kind, and when the union, accord, similitude with this

object, are found; and the connection with the opposite, and the

discovery of the uniting, renders the recognition so much the more

complete.

Section 26.

The objects of the outer world appear to man in a more solid, or

more liquid, or more gaseous condition. In correspondence with this,

man finds himself gifted with senses by which to perceive the more

solid, the more liquid, and the more gaseous objects.

But each object again appears more at rest or more in motion.

Corresponding to this, each of the senses is again divided into two

quite different organs,— the one effecting more the recognition of

objects at rest, the other, on the contrary, those in motion ; so that

therefore the sense for the gaseous is divided between the organs ofhearing and seeing ; the sense for the liquid, between the organs of

tasting and smelling ; the sense for the solid, between the organs

of feeling and touch.

According to the law of the recognition of things through their

opposites, the sense of hearing first develoj^s in the child, and later

the sense of sight, guided, limited, and incited by the hearing; by



MAN IN THE PERIOD OF HIS EARLIEST CHILDHOOD. 'Zl

which development of these two senses in the child it is first made

possible to the parents and those who surround it to connect the

objects with their opposite, the u'07'd, and then with the shoicing^ so

as to make them, as it were, at one with each other, and so to lead tJi^

child to perception, and later to recognition thereof.

Section 27.

The use of the body and limbs develops at the time with, and in

the same proportion as, the increasing development of the senses, and

in an order conditionedin the nature of the child, and in the proper-

ties of the corporal world.

The objects of the outer world are more near, more quiescent, and

therefore invite rest ; or they are more moving, withdrawing, and

therefore invite grasping and firm holding, that they may be appro-

priated ; or they are connected with fixed, distant places or spaces,

and actually through their remoteness, as in the former case by their

movement, call upon him who would bring them nearer to move

toward them, and to move them to him.

So the use of the limbs develops the sitting and lying, the grasp-

ing and clinging, the moving and springing.

Standing is a totality of all use of the limbs and body, and, indeed,

the most complete totality : it is the finding of the centre of gravity of

the body.

The bodily standing is just as significant for this stage as the

laughter, the physical discovery of self, was for the earlier stage, and

as the moral and religious standing is for the last stage, of human

development. At this stage of development, the future man only

depends upon the use of his body, his senses, and his limbs, purely

for use and exercise, but not on account of what proceeds from and

by means of this use of body, limbs, and senses. The child is quite

indifferent to this, or, more accurately speaking, has no anticipation

of it. Hence the child's play with its limbs, its little hands, fingers,

its lips, its tongue, its little feet, but also with its eyes and face, whichbegins at this stage.

At first, indeed, as has just been said, there is no representation of

the inner by the outer at the foundation of this play with face and

limbs, and this first actually appears at the following stage of devel-

opment. Yet these plays are first given for observation and con-

firmation, so that the child may not accustom itself to movements




of the body, and especially of the face, without any inner cause,— as,

for instance, rolling the eyes, and twisting the mouth,— and thus slip

into a separation between gesture and feeling, between body and spirit,

between the external and the internal, which either leads to dissimu-

lation, or causes the body to assume movements and habits which

later become no longer subject to the will, can never be laid aside,

and accompany man through his whole life as a mask.

Therefore children must, from an early age, never be left on the

bed or in the cradle too long, without some object for their activity

this caution will also prevent bodily effeminacy ; and bodily effemi-

nacy produces, and necessarily conditions, spiritual effeminacy and

weakness.

That this bodily effeminacy may be avoided, the child's bed

should from the beginning be less soft. It should consist, tliere-

fore, of pillows of hay, sea-grass, fine straw, chaff, or at most horse-

hair, but not of feathers. So, also, the child should be but lightly

covered while asleep, and should be exposed to the influence of the

pure air.

To avoid the evil of leaving the child before sleeping, and espe-

cially after wâking, on its bed with nothing to occupy it, it is advisa-

ble to hang up a cage wdth a bird in it in the natural line of vision

of the child. This attracts the activity of the child's senses and mind,

and affords nourishment to this activity in many ways.

Section 28.

With the developed activity of the child's senses, body, and limbs,

at the point where the child begins to represent the internal outwardly

by its own action, the infant stage of the development of man ends,

and the stage of childhood begins.

Up to this stage, the inner nature of man is still an unmembered

unity, void of manifoldness.

With the entrance of speech begins the expression and represen-

tation of the inner nature of man;

with thisbegins the separation of

man's inner nature into its component parts,— the manifoldness of

means and aim. The inner nature of man becomes separated into

its component parts, and strives to manifest itself outwardly. Man

strives by his own power, manifested by independent action, to repre-

sent and to form his inner natm-e outwardly by means of that which

is fixed.



MAN IX THE PERIOD OF HIS EARLIEST CHILDHOOD. 29

With the stage of childhood— with this stage of making the inner

nature visible by means of the outward, and of seeking and striving

for the union of both, for the unity which connects both— begins the

actual education of man, by lessened physical, but increased spiritual

fostering and care.

But the education of man is at this stage committed wholly to the

father, the mother, the family, with whom he naturally makes up

an unpieced, unseparated whole. For the means of representation,

speech (considered only in its audible manifestation as speaking) is

at this stage wholly unseparated from man. Indeed, he as yet does

not at aU know and recognize it as something individual: it is one

with him, like his arm, his eye, his tongue, without his knowing any

thing more of it.

Section 29.

No rule can be fixed and determined in regard to the greater or

less importance of the different stages of formation and development

of man except the necessary order of their appearance, according to

which the earliest is always the most important. Each is of like

importance in its place and at its time. Yet this stage of childhood

is highly important, because it contains the development of the first

connection and union of the child with those who surround it and

with the surrounding world ; because it is the first stage of interpreta-

tion, understanding, and comprehension of its inner nature.

This stage is important ; for the manner in which the outer world

appears to the unfolding man— whether as noble, or ignoble, low and

dead ; whether as a thing only for the use, waste, destruction, and

enjoyment of others, or as a high, living, spiritual, and divine thing;

whether it appears to him as clear or obscure, as ennobling and

elevatmg, or as depressing and debasing ; whether he see and recog-

nize things in true or inverted relations— is a matter of high impor-

tance.

Therefore the child should at this stage view every thing rightly;

and also rightly, precisely, and clearly designate the things andobjects themselves, as well as their nature and their properties.

He should rightly designate the relations of the objects to space

and time, as well as to each other;should designate each by the right

name, by the right word ; and should denote each word clearly and

purelj^, according to its elements, voice-soimds, and open and closed

sounds.



30 EDUCATION OF ISIAN.

But since this stage of development requires that man as a child

should clearly, correctly, and purely designate every thing, it is there-

fore essentially necessary that all his surroundings should be brought

before him correctly, clearly, and purely, that he may perceive and

recognize all in the same manner. These two requirements are

inseparable, and reciprocally condition each other.

As speech is as yet one with the speaking human being, at this

stage also the language and designation by speech of the speaking

child coincide with the object to be designated; that is, the child

cannot yet separate wôrd and thing, any more than corporal and

spiritual, body and soul. They are as yet one and the same to him.

This is shown especially by the play of children at this time : the

child expresses itself by play willingly, and, if it can, often.

Play and sjêaking form the element in which the child now lives.

Therefore, also, the child at this stage of human development imparts

to each thing capacities for life, feeling, and speech, and believes that

each thing can hear. Just because the child begins to represent his

inner nature outwardly, he supposes like activity in every thing else

around him, be it a stone, a bit of Môod, a plant, a flowêr, or ananimal.

And so at this stage the child develops his life in himself, his life

with his parents and his family, life with a higher, invisible Power

common to him and to them, and also especially his life in and wdth

N'ature as bearing within it a life like his own. Life in and with

Nature, and with the clear, still objects of Nature, must be fostered at

this time by the parents and members of the family as a chief point

of reference of the whole child-life. And this is done especially

through play, through the fostering of child-play, which in the begin-

ning is only natural life.

Section 30.

Play. Play is the highest stage of the child's development at this

time ; for it is freely active representation of the inner, the representa-

tion of the inner from the need of the inner itself.

Play is the purest, the most spiritual, product of man at this stage,

and is at once the prefiguration and imitation of the total human

life,— of the inner, secret, natural life in man and in all things. It

produces, therefore, joy, freedom, satisfaction, rej)ose within and with-

out, peace with the wôrld. The springs of all good rest within it and

go out from it. A child who plays capably, spontaneously, quietly,



MAN IN THE PERIOD OF HIS EARLIEST CHILDHOOD. 31

enduriiigiy, even to the point of bodily fatigue, becomes certainly also

a capable, quiet, enduring man, self-sacrificingly promoting his own

and others' weKare. Is not the most beautiful phenomenon of child-

life the playing child at this period of his life, the child wholly

absorbed in his play, the child ^vho has dropped asleep while absorbed

in 23lay ?

The play at this period is, as has already been indicated, not

trivial, but has great earnestness and deep significance. Foster,

nourish it, mother ! Protect, guard it, father ! The futm-e inner life

of the child is revealed to the calm, penetrating gaze of one who has

a genume knowledge of human nature in the child's plays chosen

spontaneously.

The plays of this age are the buds of the whole future life; for the

whole man shows himself in them in his finest qualities, in his inner

sense. The whole future life of man has its fount in this space of

time, whether this future life be clear or clouded, gentle or boisterous,

moving quietly or violently, industrious or lazy, rich or poor in action,

dully staring or clearly perceiving, forming or destroying, bringing

harmony or discord, war or peace. Allowing for the child's indi-

vidual and natural qualities, his future relations to father and mother,

to his family, to his fellow-citizens and to man, to Natm-e and to God,

depend especially on his manner of life at this age ; for the child's life

in and with himself, in and with his family, in and with Xatm-e and

God, rests here as yet wholly in a unity. So the child at this age

scarcely knows which he likes best,— the flowers, or his own pleasure

in them, or the pleasure he gives his mother, his parents, when he

brings the flowers to them, or the dim anticipation of the dear Giver.

Who can separate into their component parts the joys in which

this age is so rich ?

If the child is injured in this age, if the buds of the future tree of

his life are injured, then will the child, only with the greatest difii-

culty and the most extreme effort, grow into strong, mature life;

only with the greatest difficulty will he insure himself from being

stunted, or at least from becoming one-sided, in the com'se of devel-

opment and training.

Section 31.

In these years of childhood the child's food and means of nourish-

ment are pre-eminently important, not only for the life of the child at

that time,— for the child can be made lazy or active, inert or ener-




getic, dull or bright, \Yeak or vigorous in life, by his food, — but for

his whole future life. For the impressions, inclinations, strong

desires, which the child has received by his food ; the turn which has

thus been given to his senses, indeed, to his actual life ; the turn

given to the activities of his life, can with difficulty be laid aside

even by the future self-dependent man. They are one with his whole

bodily life, and so, also, have grown with his spiritual life, at least

with his sensations and feelings.

Therefore let the first food of the child after his mother's milk

be simple and plain, not artificial and manufactured, especially not

alluring and exciting to the appetite by being highly spiced, nor fat,

that the activity of the inner organs may not be impeded. As a

general truth from which each particular precept proceeds, parents

and nurses should always say to themselves that man in the future

will be happier and stronger, more truly creative on every side, in

proportion as the means of life and bodily needs among, in, and with

which man as a child grew up, were simple and moderate, suitable to

the unpampered nature of man.

Who does not often see in the child, over-excited by too highly-

spiced or immoderate food, desires of a very low kind, from which it

can never be freed?— desires which, though they may seem suppressed,

only slumber, to return with greater power when opportunity offers,

and threaten to destroy all the dignity of man, to snatch him away

from his duty.

If parents would only consider that not only much future indi-

vidual, personal happiness, but even much domestic and family

happiness, even the welfare of the citizen, depends on the food,

how very different would be their management of the child

But here is the silly mother, there the childish father ; and we

see poison upon poison given to the children in all forms and kinds,

coarse and fine : in the one case, through the oppressive quantity,

given only to drive away the ennui of which the unemployed child

complains ; in the other case, through over-refined food, which

excites the bodily, physical life, without spiritual, genuine life-

conditions, and thereby exerts an enervating and weakening effect

upon the body. In the one case, bodily sluggishness and indolence

are considered as rest, which is to be permitted to the child : in the

other case, the bodily mobility of the child, unconnected with spirit-

ual, genuine life-influences, the result of over-excitement, is regarded

as genuine increase of life, as true life-development.



MAN IK THE PERIOD OF HIS EARLIEST CHILDHOOD. 33

The promotion and confirmation of tlie welfare, happiness, and

health of the liuman race, are far more simple than we think. All

the means are easy and near to us, but we do not perceive them:

we see them, indeed, but we do not consider them. They seem to us

too trifling in their simplicity, naturalness, easy applicability, and

nearness : we despise them. We seek help from afar, while we alone

can help ourselves.

Therefore, later, our ability, whether partially or fully intended,

does not reach to the point of making our children what we, with

greater insight and clearer view, must recognize as their best, what

now does not come to them at all, at least does not come purelyand full}^, and what would have come to them of itself— not if we

had paid a trifle more attention to tliem in their childhood ; no,

no— what would have come to them in tlieir childhood if we had

expended considerably less for their bodily tendance.

Would that to each young, newly-married pair might be comniu-

cated even one of the sad experiences and appearances in its small,

simple, and apparently insignificant foundation, and in its incalcula-

ble results, which strive to destroy all the good of later education!

Would that there could be communicated to them in its vividness,

even one of these sad experiences of which the educator is obliged

to make hundreds, the knowledge of which can assist him but little

to make these phenomena harmless in the later life in w^liich he

remarks them ; for who does not know the mighty powers of the

impressions of youth?

It is easy at the earlier stage to avoid the wrong ; it is easy to find

the right. The food should be only means of nourishment, never

more nor less. The food should never be an object in itself, but

only a means of promoting the activity of body and soul ; still less

should the qualities of the food, its taste and delicacy, be an object

in themselves, but only a means conditioned by the object of being

a proper, pure, wholesome means of nourishment, else in both cases

the food will have a prejudicial effect on the health.

The nourishment of the child should therefore be the simplest

which can be provided, and should be given to it in a quantity

proportioned to its bodily and mental activity.




Section 32.

But that the child may be able to move and play, develop and

form himself, freely, and unhindered in mind and bodj^, his clothing-

also should be neither pressing nor binding; for such clothing will

also press and bind the mind of man. The clothing, in this as well

as in the following age, should never be cramping, for the same

effect which it has on the body it will have on the mind and soul of

the child. The form, color, and fashion of the clothing should never

be an aim in itself, for that will make the child superficial and frivo-

lous, a doll instead of achild, a puppet instead of a

humanbeing.

The clothing, therefore, is by no means unimportant for the child or

for the later man, as, in like manner, it is by no means unimportant

for Christians to be able to say, " The work and life of Jesus were,

like his coat, without piece or seam, a continuous whole ; as is also

his teaching."

Section 33.

Therefore the aim and object of the tendance of the child by

father and mother in the family circle is to awaken and develop, to

incite the whole power, the whole disposition, of the human being,

to bring out the capability of all his limbs and organs, and to be

able to satisfy the demands of his disposition and powers.

Without any teaching, without any demands, without any learn-

ing, the natural mother does this spontaneously ; but that is not

enough : it is necessary, besides, that she should do it as a conscious

being, and as acting upon a being who is becoming conscious;lead-

ing consciously, with a certain conscious coherence, to the continuous

develoi)ment of man.

Therefore, placing before her what she has unconsciously done

according to its nature, its significance, and its connection, may bring

her to consciousness. True, the most simple mother could do this;

but observing mothers could do it still more truly, completely, and

deeply: yet through incompleteness man mounts to completeness.

So this bringing forward the mother's work may awaken true, silent,

thoughtful, and reasonable parental love, and bring us to an insight

and consciousness of the course of development in our childhood in

an entire presentation of its expressions.

"Give your little arm here," "Where's your little hand?" says

the training mother, seeking to bring forward, and to make the child




anticipate, tlie manifoldness of his body and the variety of its

members.

" Bite yom' little finger." This is especially a method of action

rightly guided by the deep, natural feeling of the thoughtful and

childlike jesting mother, in order to lead the child to the perception

and knowledge of a particular object which is yet united with him-

self, and to lead the child already to the earliest phenomena of

future reflection.

Not less important is the lovely, playful, jesting manner in which

the mother leads the child to the knowledge of the members which

are not seen nor looked at by him,—the nose, the ears, the tongue, the

teeth.

The mother pulls softly the child's nose or ear, as if she would

separate it from the head or face, and says, showing him the half-

hidden finger-tip, " There, I have the ear— the little nose ";and the

child grasps quickly for ear and nose, and laughs joyously to feel

them both still in their places.

This treatment of the mother in the beginning incites the child

to brin^ to his knowledge every thing, even if he cannot outwardly

see and perceive it.

All this has the object of bringing the child, as a boy, at some

time to consciousness of himself, to reflection, to reflection about him-

self ; as a ten-year-old boy in charge of a teacher, and in like manner

led from a sense of iN'ature, said to himself when, as he thought,

unobserved, " I am not my arm ; I am not my ear, either ; I can

separate all my limbs and organs of sense from myself, and I remain

always myself: who am T then actually? who or what is then actu-

ally this thing which I call I?"

In like spirit the mother-love continues to act and speak with the

little one when she says, '' Show me your little tongue," " Show me

your little teeth," " Bite with your little teeth," in order thus imme-

diately to lead him to the use of them.

"Put your little foot in "— in the stocking, in the shoe; "There

is the little foot "— in the stocking, in the shoe.

So the mother's love and thoughtfulness gradually brings his

little outer world before the child, advancing from the undivided to

the separate, from the near to the far. And as she tried in this way

to bring the little one to perceive objects by themselves and in their

relations to space, so she soon also brings to the child's knowledge

their properties, and naturally, first of all, the effects of these proper-




ties, first in their quiescent state. " The light burns," and the

mother draws the child's finger toward the light, so that he may feel

its fire without actually burning himself, in order to guard him from

the unknown danger ; or " The knife pricks," says the careful

mother, gently pressing the point of the knife against the child's

finger ;" The soup is hot, it burns," setting before the child the

permanence, the existing, of the acting property, or its cause.

" The knife is pointed ; it is sharp ; it pricks ; it cuts ; let it

alone."

From the recognition of the effect, the mother leads the child to

the quiescent, abiding cause, the quiescent, abiding property,— sharp,

j)ointed,— and later from the knowledge of the quiescent property

to its effects,— pricking, cutting,— without his experiencing its full

effect on himself.

Further : the mother brings to the child its own handling of the

same ; at first for feeling, later for perceiving.

So the mother, conveying delightful instruction in all her doings

and by the constant connection of word and deed, says to the child

when it is to take food, " Open your little mouth " ; when washing it,

" Shut your little eyes." Or the mother teaches the child to recognize

the object of his management : in this sense the mother says, when

she lays the child on its bed, " Sleep, sleep ";

or, when she puts the

food to his mouth in a spoon, " Eat, baby." And in order to call his

attention to the effect of the food on the organ of taste to the relation

of the food to the body, she says, " That tastes good." In order to

call his attention to the odor of the flowers, the mother makes the

sound of smelling, and says, "That smells good; smell of it, my

child "; or, on the contrary, turns away her face with an expression

of disgust from the flowers, which she takes away from the child.

So the simplest mother, who almost bashfully withdraws into

privacy with her darling (in order not to let unhallowed eyes dwell

upon this blessedness) strives in the most natural manner to bring

the child into the full activity of its mind and senses.

Alas ! we, through our conceitedness, lose sight of this natural anddivine point of departure for all human development; we stand

helpless, having lost the right direction by losing the points for

beginning and ending. Renouncing God and Nature, we seek

counsel from human cleverness and human wit. We build card-

houses ; but the management of Mother Nature finds no place, divine

influences no room ; and the slightest indication of the child, moved




by the pleasure and stress of life, throws our building into heaps.

If it stands, the cHild must become fettered, if not spiritually, then

physically. Whither has a word brought us ?

Into the nursery of those learned in wôrds, the so-called cultivated

people, who scarcely believe that there is any thing in the child which,

if it is to exist, must necessarily be early developed, who still less

know that all that the child is at some time to be and to become lies

in him, though as yet in so slight a degree, and if it is to come to him,

can necessarily only do so if developed from him.

Therefore how dead, how cold, is every thing here ! or, at best,

what screaming and lamenting there is !

But is not the mother then here ?

Oh, it is not the mother's room, it is only the nm'sery (the chil-

dren's room).

Come, let us go again where not only the mother's and children's

room, but even the mother and child, are still one, where only with

unwillingness does the mother give up her child to the care of stran-

gers. Let us see and hear how the mother there brings objects in their

motion before the child, saying, " Hark ! the birdie peeps " ;" The

dog says ' bow-wow.' " And now, leading from the expression to the

name, from the development of the sense of hearing to the develop-

ment of the sense of sight, she says, "Where is the peeping birdie?"

" Where is the bow-wow ?"

The mother even goes so far as to lead from the connected percep-

tion of the object and its property to the single perception of the

property itself. "

Thebii'die flies," says the

mother, in speaking ofthe real bird which is flying. " See the birdie !

" says the mother at a

later period to the child, referring to the wavering, unstable point of

light caused by the reflection of a mirror or a movable sm-face of

water.

In order now to lead the child to perceive that this is an immaterial

phenomenon, having its motion only in common with the bird, the

mother says, " Catch the birdie," giving the child the opportunity of

putting its hands over the point of light. Or, in order to lead the

child to perceive the movement itseK, and nothing else, the mother

says, " Bim, bom," in reference to the pendulum motion of any thing

linear, or " To, fro."

In a similar way the mother tries to call the child's attention to

the change in things ; for example, pointing to the light, " There is

the light, there is the light ";taking it away, " The light is gone "

or,'""

"" "




Or, calling its attention to the voluntary motion of things, " Come,

kitty, come to my child ;" " Kitty runs away."

So she incites the activity of the child's body and limbs by saying,

" Hold the flower," " Catch the kitty," or, while she slowly rolls the

ball, " Catch the ball."

The all-embracing mother-love seeks to awaken and make clear

the common feeling so important between the child and its father and

brothers and sisters by saying, " Stroke the dear father;

" or, while

she strokes the child's own hand over its father's cheek, "Dear

father," or " Stroke little sister," and again saying, "Dear sister," etc.

Beside the feeling of community, the egg from which such gloriousthings develop, the mother-love, the all-comprising motherly thought-

fulness, tries also to bring the child to feel life in itself through motion,

and, which is especially important, through regular, measured, rhyth-

mical sounds.

So the genuine, natural mother slowly and on all sides follows

the progressive, all-sided, regnant life in the child; strengthens it,

and thus awakens increasingly the more all-sided life as yet deej)ly

slumbering in the child, and develops that also.

Others suppose a void in the child, wish to inoculate him with

life, making him as empty as they believe him to be, and giving him

death. And so this simple, natural guidance to the develo]3ment of

the rhythmic, legitimate linking of all human expressions of life as

a means of cultivation in speech and musical tone is so wholly lost

because its importance is recognized by few, and still fewer retain it,

and further develop the human being in accordance with it, and

connect with it the more extended development of man.

And therefore the piire, early development of rhythmic, legitimate

motion, would be highly beneficial in the next and later stages of the

whole life of the child and man. We take a great deal upon our-

selves as educators, in reference to the child as a pupil and a human

being, in so soon withdrawing in early training the rh}i;hmic, meas-

ured movement in accordance with the laws of develoxmient.

The child would more easily comprehend the legitimate, suitable

proportion of his life, if this rhythmic movement were retained.

Much wilfulness, incongruity^, and roughness would disappear from

life, action, and movement. More just proportion and moderation5

more harmony, would come into life, and later a more impressive

sense of Xature and art, music and poetry, would be developed.

Also the singing by quite small chikben when they are quiet, or



MAN IN THE TEIIIOD OF HIS EAllLIEST CHILDHOOD. 30

esx")ecially ^Yllen they are going to sleep, has not been nnremarked by

the careful, thinking mother, and should be yet more observed and

developed by those who have the charge of children, as the first germ

of future development in inelody and song. There would certainly

soon be shown here such independent activity on the part of the

children as is shown in speech when children, with the capacity for

speech thus developed and later appearing, meet with words as the

designation of new conceptions, and peculiar connections, and rela-

tions of properties not yet remarked.

So quite a little girl, who had been brought up in a pm-ely child-

like way, gmded by her mother, after long and thoughtfully feeling of

and looking at the leaves of a plant covered with a strong, soft down,

exclaimed joyfully to her mother, "Oh, how woolly!"

The mother was not conscious that she had ever called the child's

attention to such a prox:)erty.

So this child saw the two most brilliant planets just as they were

standing very near each other in the sky in a clear, starlight night.

" Father and mother stars !" cried the child joyously, without the

mother's being in the least able to say how this connection with and

application to the stars had been awakened in the child.

Section 34.

Neither crutches nor leading-strings should be employed to induce

the child to stand or run. He should stand when he has the power to

keep his balance spontaneously and independently, and should Avalk

when he can independently keep his balance while spontaneously

moving forward. He should not stand before he can sit upright,

and draw himself up by means of some tall object standing near him,

and so finally keep his balance without support. He should not walk

till he can creep and raise himself voluntarily, keep his balance, and,

keeping it, go forward. At first, Avhen he has spontaneously risen to

his feet at some distance from his mother, he will be prompted to

walk that he may return to her lap. But soon the child feels thepower in his OAvn feet, and now for his own pleasure repeats the

newly-learned art, just for the sake of walking, as he did before with

the art of standing. A short time more, and without his knowledge

he exercises the art of feeling ; and now he is charmed with the

variegated, round, smooth pebble, the gay-colored, fluttering bit of

paper. The smooth, symmetrical, triangular or quadrangular bit of




board, piece of ^YOod ; the rectangular bricks which he can build upon,

and by the side of each other ; the sheet of paper, attractive by its

form, its color, its shine, its composition,— all charm him, and he seeks

to appropriate to himself such things by the newly-acquired use of his

limbs; seeks to bring like things together, and to separate unlike

things from each other. See the child who can scarcely hold itself

upright, and so can only go forward with great caution : he sees a

grain of rice, a bit of straw ; he labors hard to get it, as a bird does in

the spring to carry it to his nest. See the child stoop with difficulty

under the drip of the roof, and move slowly away. The force of the rain

falling from the roof has washed up some little smooth-colored stones,

and the all-observant gaze of the child sees them as stones, as mate-

rials for future building, and he collects them for that purpose.

And is he wTong? Is it not actually so? Does not the child collect

materials for his future life-building? In that building, like things

will be grouped, unlike things separated : man is to put together, not

that which is rough, but what has been deprived of roughness.

Section 35.

If the building is to be suitable, each material must be fully known,

not only by its name, but also by its properties and its use ; and that

the child desires this is shown to us by his childlike, quiet, eager acts.

We call it " childish " because we do not understand it, because we

have no eyes to see, no ears to hear, and still less feeling to feel,

with the child : we are therefore dead— the life of the child is dead

to us. We cannot make it clear to ourselves : how, then, can we make

it clear to the child ? And yet this is the yearning that attracts the

child to us. How can we give language to the objects of the child's

life when they are dumb to us ? And yet this is the innermost long-

ing with which the child brings his store to us in his little fast-closed

hands, and lays it in our lap, as if, thus wârmed, it wôuld give him

knowledge of itself. Every thing which enters into his small range of

vision, which widens his as yet narrow world,is dear to him. The

smallest thing is to him a new discovery. But it must not come dead

into the little world; it must not remain dead in it: else the small

range of vision will be darkened, the young world crushed.

Therefore the child would like to know why each, thing is dear

to him; he would like to know all its properties, its innermost nature,

in order at some time to understand itself. Therefore the child turns




the object on all sides ; therefore he tears and pounds it ; therefore he

puts it in his mouth, and bites, or at least tries to bite it.

We blame the child for naughtiness and foolishness;but is he not

more wise than we who blame? The child wishes to discover tlie

inside of the thing, being urged to this by an impulse he has not

given to himself,— the impulse which, rightly recognized and rightly

guided, seeks to know God in all his works. God gave him under-

standing, reason, and speech : the persons who guide him do not

satisfy his impulse, cannot satisfy it. Where can the child seek for

satisfaction of his impulse to research, bnt from the thing itself?

But of course the thing which has been dismembered also remains

dumb ; but does it not show in its separation either like or unlike

parts?— there the stone broken in pieces, here the flower torn in

pieces. And is not this already an extension of krôwledge? Do we

adults increase our knowledge in any other way? Is not the inside

of the plant pithy, hollow, or woody? Is not the section of it round

or edged, and three, or four, or five edged? Are not the separated

surfaces even or uneven, smooth or rough, dense or porous, splintered

or shelly, or indented or fibrous ? Are not the fragments sharp-edgedor blunt-edged ? Does it easily shiver to pieces, or does it rather yield

to the blows ?

And the child does this, in order, out of the manifoldness of the

outward phenomena of the thing, to make known to himself its inner

nature and its relation to himself,— in order to recognize, first of all,

the cause of his love, his inclination, his attraction, to it. And do we

larger people, we adults, we investigators, do otherwise ?

But if the teacher from the chair of the lecturer does this, if he

prompts our sons to it, then first does it acquire value, and assume

importance to us ; but in the child's action we overlook it.

Therefore even the expression presented in the most lucid manner

by the teacher is so frequently without effect on our sons, because

they are now obliged to learn from the teacher what they should have

learned in childhood by our help, by means of our explaining, vivify-

ing word, and which they would have learned almost by themselves.

And very, very little is needed from those around the child, to give

it what the years of childhood require. We need only to designate,

to name, to give words to what the child does, seeks, perceives, and

finds.

Kich is the life of the child ripening into boyhood ; but we see it

not : vivid is his life ; but wê feel it not. His life is suited to the




destiny and vocation of man ; but we do not even conjecture it. We

not only do not foster, guard, develop, the inner germ of this life, but

we allow it to be crushed and silenced by the weight of its own efforts,

or it finds pleasure for itself in unnaturalness on some weak side of

its nature; in which case we perceive the same phenomenon whicli

in the first case, in plants, we call pining, in the second, a sucker

we perceive misdirection of energies, and of the bias and impulse, in

the child (the human plant) as well as in the vegetable.

Now, we would like well to guide otherwise the energies and sap

(life-givmg power), bias and impulse, in the child advancing to boy-

hood, but it is already too late ; for we have not only not recognized,

but misconceived : we have not only not fostered, but displaced and

stifled, the thoughtful significance of his life.

Section 36.

See !— a child has there a stone he has just found, which, in order

to conclude on its properties by its effects, he rubs on a bit of board

lying near him, thereby discovering the j^roperty of coloring. It is a

bit of lime or clay,— red or white chalk.

See how the child delights in the newly-discovered property, and

how he makes use of it with busy arm and eager hand ! In a short

time the surface of the board is nearly covered. At first the before

unknown property, then the altered surface, delights the child,— now

red, now white; now black, now brown,— but soon he finds pleasure

in the mnding, straight, curved, and other forms. By these linear

appearances the child's attention is drawn to the linear property of

surrounding objects. Now the head becomes a round, and the round-

ing line, returning to its beginning-point, becomes a head; the oval

line connected with it, a back ; arms and legs appear as straight or

crooked lines, and such lines become to the child arms and legs ; he

looks upon fingers as lines coming together at a point, and lines thus

connected become to him hands and fingers ; eyes appear to him as

points, and points become eyes;

and a new world grows up withinand around him ; for what man tries to represent he begins to

understand.

A manifold and new world comes to the child by the comprehen-

sion and representation of lines ;not only because this representation

presents the outside world in miniature, and so is more easily com-

prehensible to his eyes and senses; not only that he can represent



MAN IN THE PEillOD OF HIS EAKLIEST CHILDHOOD. 43

outwardly ^Yllat lie carries within him as a remembrance or a new

connection, but that the knowledge of the new, invisible world, the

world of powers, draws thence its fine rootlets.

The rolling sphere, the thrown and falling stone, the waterdammed up, and guided into little diverging ditches, have taught

the child that the direction of the effect of j)ower is always linear.

The representation of objects by lines leads the child soon to the

perception and representation of the direction in which the power

works. " There flows a brook ";and, saying this, the child makes a

mark to indicate the course of the brook.

The child has connected lines which represent a tree to him ;" a

branch grows out there, and another here "; and at the mstant of

speaking he draws the lines off from the tree to represent the

branches.

Very descriptively the child says, " There comes a birdie flying,"

and immediately draws a winding line in the direction of the

imaginary flight.

Give the child chalk, or any thing similar, and soon a new crea-

tion will stand before him and you. The father makes for him aman or a horse with a few lines : this line-man, this line-horse gives

the child more pleasure than is given to him by the actual form or

man.

Section 37.

How are you mothers and nurses to guide the child to this point ?

If you are only willing to see and observe, the child himself will

teach you.

Here the child is drawing a table by going round its edges as far

as he can reach them. The child thus, as it were, draws the object

on the object itself. This is the first, and, to the child, the surest

step by which he makes himself aware of the boundaries and form

of the object. In like manner the child draws and indicates chair,

bench, and window.

But the child soon makes an advance. Here he draws the cross-

lines on four-cornered bits of board, on the leaf of the table, on the

seat of the bench and chair, in the dim anticipation that so the forms

and relations of the surfaces can be retained. Now the child already

draws the form diminished.

See ! there the child has drawn table, chair, and bench on a leaf

of the table. Do you not see how it developed itself for this, and



44 EDUCATION OF MAJN.

trained itself to it? Objects which he could move, which were in

sight, he laid on the board, or bench, or table, and drew their form

on the plane surface, following the boundaries of the objects with

his hand. Soon scissors and boxes, but soon, also, leaves and twigs,

even his own hand, or the shadows of objects, will be thus Copied.

Much is developed in the child by this action, more than it is

possible to express; he gains by this clear comprehension of the

form the possibility of representing the form separate from the

object, the possibility of retaining the form as such, the strengthen-

ing and fitting of the arm and hand for the free representation of

form.The fostering mother, the careful father, the heedful family

(without a natural artist among them, and often without having

ever drawn, themselves), can carry the child on far enough for him

to be able to draw a straight line, a cross line with tolei'able accu-

racy, even to draw a rectangular object in a vertical position (for

example, a looking-glass or window), with some resemblance to the

original ; and also many other things.

But it is not only good, but even necessary, in order to develop

and increase the power and capacity of the child, that the father and

mother should, without being over-anxious or careless, always con-

nect the action of the child with wôrds ; for example, I am drawing

a table, a looking-glass, the cross line of the backgammon-board.

To the child, this mode of procedure heightens the inner and outer

power, extends the knowledge, awakens the powder of judgment, and

the thoughtfulness which protects fi'om so much incorrectness,— all

which qualities cannot too soon come to man in Jiis intercourse with

Nature. For word and sign are reciprocally explaining and com-

pleting, since neither of them is individually exhaustive and suffi-

cing in respect to the object represented. The sign actually stands

between the word and the thing, has properties in common with

each, and is for that reason so very important as a means of train-

ing and development for the child. The genuine sign has this in

common with the thing, — that it strives to represent the form andoutlines of the thing: it has this in common with the word,— that it

is never the thing itself, but only an image of it. Again : word and

sign are of a purely opposite nature ; for the sign is dead while the

word is living ; the sign is visible while the word is audible. There-

fore word and sign belong inseparably together, as do light and

shade, day and night, spirit and body. Therefore the capacity for




signs is as innate in the child as the capacity for speech, and as

absohitely requires develox:>nient and cultivation ; as is shown in

experience of the child's pleasure in and ardent desire for signs.

Section 38.

The representation of an object by a sign, and the exact percep-

tion conditioned and required by the representation, lead the child

soon and quickly to recognize the constantly returning connection of

a like quantity of objects of a similar kind; for example, two eyes

and two arms,five fingers

andfive toes, six legs of the

bug andfly

and so the sign for the object leads to the recognition and notice of

the number. The repeated return of one and the same object con-

ditions number. The precise different quantity, in any respect, of

objects of the same kind, is the number of those objects.

Thus the child's sphere of knowdedge, the world of his life, is

again extended by the observation and recognition, by the develo^v

ment and cultivation, of the capacity of number ; and an essential

need of his inner nature, a certain yearning of his spirit, are thereby

satisfied ; for, up to this point, the child contemplated liis greater

or smaller quantities of like and unlike objects with a certain long-

ing, a dim anticipation that he still lacks a means of knowdedge.

It was not yet possible for him to recognize, comprehend, and deter-

mine the relations of quantity of the different heaps he made ; but

now he knows that he has two large and three small pebbles, four

white and five yellow flowers, etc. The knowledge of the relations

of quantity extraordinarily heightens the life of the child. But the

mind of the child requires that here the mother and those around

the child should develop in him the capacity for counting, in the

beginning, in the manner which lies in the nature of number and

according to the laws of thought conditioned in the mind of man

ever after the demand for number shows itself in the child's life.

If we quietly observe the child, we shall easily find how the

child goes, though unconsciously, in the path marked out by the

laws of human thought, rising from the visible to the invisible and

the ideal ; for the child at first places together objects of a like

kind, and obtains thus, for example, apples, nuts, pears, beans.

The mother, or the loving, guiding nurse, now only joins to the

child's action the explaining word ; that is, connects the visible

with the audible, and thus brings it nearer to the insight, recogni-




tion, and inner perception of the child ; namely, api)les, pears, nuts,

beans, etc.

AVho has not seen, who has not had the opportunity of seeing,

how the child lays the objects of each kind singly, side by side in a

row? Here again the mother adds the explaining word ; for exam-

ple :—

apples, apples, apples, apples, nothing but apples

pear, pear, pear, jêar, nothing but pears

nut, nut, nut, nut, nothing but nuts

bean, bean, bean, bean, nothing but beans

or wliatever else the child groups together : there are always several

of each kind of the different objects or things.

While the mother has the child place one object by another, she

also e'xpresses this action in common with the child precisely and

clearly ; for example :—

an apple, another apple, another apple, another apple, many apples

a pear, another pear, another pear, another pear, many pears

a nut, another nut, another nut, another nut, many nuts;

a bean, another bean, another bean, another bean, many beans;

so also with the fingers, etc. A quantity of each kind of object

increases always by the regular adding of one object of that kind.

Instead of the indefinite words " another," " another," the mother

gives the number which accurately designates the increase, actually

counting the objects with the child; for example :—

one apple, two apples, three apples, four apples, etc.

one pear, two pears, three pears, four pears, etc.

one nut, two nuts, three nuts, four nuts, etc.

one bean, two beans, three beans, four beans, etc.

Again, the mother lays several of each kind of objects in a naturally

increasing quantity, and designates her action by word ; for exam-

ple :—* apple * pear * nut * bean

* * apples * * pears * * nuts * * beans

* * * apples * * * pears * * * nuts * * * beans

* * * * apples * * * * pears * * * * nuts * * * * beans, etc.

Later the mother and child sjjeak the words together. Lastly the




luotlier lets the child perform alone the action as well as the designa-

tion by word (counting).

As here with each number the kind of object has been indicated

and expressed, so the mother and child may run through the numbers

alone, naming the kind of object at the close ; for example :—

* (one) * * (two) * * * (three) * * * * (four) apples

* (one) * * (two) * * * (three) * * * * (four) pears

* (one) * * (two) * * * (three) * * * * (four) nuts

* (one) * * (two) * * * (three) * * *- * (four) beans, etc.

Here the quantity of the objects is considered with reference prin-

cipally to their precise number, with a final reference to the kind.

Lastly the mother designates only the precise numbers in their

sequence, without regard to the kind of objects, as

* (one) * * (two) * * * (three) * * * * (four) * * * * * (five),

etc.

This is the j)ure consideration and perception of numbers by them-

selves in their natural sequence,— the perception of pure number.

Such a clear, certain knowledge of the series of numbers up to

ten should be developed in the child in the age of childhood. But

the names of numbers should by no means be spoken before the child

as empty, dead sounds, and repeated by him in a mechanical, there-

fore also a dead and empty, manner, when it would otherwise be

quite as likely that tlie child would say two, four, seven, or eight, one,

five, two, if the human mind did not at last throw off through its

own strength every thing unnatural.

The child should for a long time never utter the words signifying

number without looking at objects which have actually been counted

and are being counted ; as otherwise these words arc void and mean-

ingless to him.

In and by the accomplishment of the development of the concep-

tion of number there is at the same time given an example of the v/ay

in which the child rises, and in accordance with what laws it rises,

from the perception of the most isolated thing to more general and to

the most general conception.




Section 39.

With what richness, fuhiess, and freshness of the inner and onter

life do we now find the rightly guided, genuinely fostered, truly

protected child in the last period of his childhood, the time of his

exit from childhood, and entrance into boyhood ! Where is there an

object of future information and future teaching which does not

germinate in childhood?

Language and Nature lie open l3efore the child. The properties

of number, form, and size, the knowledge of space, the nature of

powers, the effects of material, begin to disclose themselves to him.Color, rhythm, tone, and figure come forward at the budding-point

and in their individual value. The child begins already to distinguish

with precision Nature and the world of art, and looks with certainty

upon the outer world as separate from himself. The feeling of an

inner world of his own now develops within him. Nevertheless we

have not yet touched upon, we have not yet noticed, one whole side

of the life of the child not yet entered into boyhood. It is that of

accompanying father and mother, brother and sister, in their domestic

employments, in their business employments.

Section 40.

I look out of doors, and the scarcely two-years-old child of a day-

laborer is leading liis father's horse : the father has placed the bridle

in the child's hand. The child moves on quietly and steadily before

the horse, and looks round frequently to see if the horse is following.

True, the father holds the curb-rein in his hand; still the child is

firmly convinced that he is leading the horse, and that the horse must

follow him. For see, the father stops to speak to an acquaintance,

and of course the horse stops also ; but the child, looking on this as

wilfulness on the part of the liorse, pulls the bridle with all his

strength to make it go on.

My neiglibor's little boy, scarcely three years old, is taking care

of his mother's goslings near my garden hedge. Small is the space

in which he may allow the lively little creatures to seek their food.

They escape from the little herdsman, who is perhaps seeking food

for his mind in another way. They come into the road, where they

are exposed to many dangers. The mother sees this, and calls to the

child, "Be careful, my son." The little boy says to his mother




crossly, for he must have been often disturbed in his employments

by the goslings' repeated attempts for freedom, "Mother, do you

think it is not hard to take care of goslings ?"

Who can xî'ove, establish, authenticate, the present and future

developments which proceed from the child's thus taking a part in

the parental employments ? And yet more might proceed if parents

and others noticed these developments, and utilized them for the

information and teaching of their children.

See here the maturing child of the gardener. The latter is weeding

the child wishes to help, and is taught to distinguish hemlock-parsely

from parsely. Then the different gloss on the surface of the leaf

and the different odor are noticed.

There tlie forester's son accompanies him to the enclosure which

has been sowed over. Every thing looks green. The child thinks

he sees nothing but tiny firs ; but the father tells him that one kind

is cypress-spm-ge, and teaches him to know the differing character

of each.

There the father takes aim and shoots: he hits the mark, and

shows the attentive child that three points (the sights) must always

lie in one direction. He shows him that, in order to turn the barrel

of the gun toward a certain point, these three points (sights) must

lie in that direction, and that, when this is the case, all the other

points also lie in the same line and direction.

There stands the child, and sees his father beat the glowing iron;

and the father teaches him that the glow increases the malleability

of the iron, but also, since the child vainly tries to stick the now

gloAving iron bar through the opening through which it before went

so easily, makes him perceive that the heat expands the iron.

Here the father who sells by weight, and is standing near the

scales, shows the child who is watching him, that the one scale

always sinks when he either lays a greater quantity on it, or takes

some away from the other scale ; and that the scales always remain

in their horizontal position, however much or little there may be in

them, provided there is an equal weight in each. But the fatherdoes not show this to the child by words, which as yet have no

meaning to him, but by permitting him to lay on or take off the

weights himself.

Here the weaver shows the child how the pressing-down of the

treadle causes a lifting of the threads, and allows the child himself

to prove it.




There the calico-i:>rinter shows the child how certain liquids alter

the colors, and that certain colors always change in the same way.

He shows him how the design must be reversed on the form, or

placed at the left, if the design is intended to be at the right.

Here the merchant teaches his son that the coffee is a shelled

fruit, the seed of a plant ; and utilizes the first opportunity to show

him the coffee-beans. He show\s him, the next time they go out for

a walk, the place and manner of growth of the caraway, the poppy,

the millet, the hemp, etc., all of which, as long, round, gray, yellow,

and whitish grains, are objects of trade.

The miner, the smith, the merchant, the dealer in iron and metal,

teach their children to distinguish between weight and gravity. A

pound of lead and a pound of chalk have equal weight; but the

gravity of the lead is greater than that of chalk, iron, etc.

Here the ropemaker shows his child how the turning of the single

threads of flax or hemp on the reel, at a considerable distance from

one another, twines them together in a whole.

The fisherman, setting his net in the current of the flowing water,

teaches his son who accompanies him, that the fish, w^hen seeking

their food, swim up the stream.

The son of the joiner, of the carpenter, of the cooper, of the wheel-

wright, etc., acquires by repeated observation and action, accompa-

nied by the instructive words of his father, a clear idea of the i^lane,

auger, and chisel. The father tells him that the material for these

tools is furnished partly by the tree, by the mountain, the stone ; that

the smelting first refines the iron, and the smith works it into this

form ; and that this smith, on account of the different tools he pre-

pares, is called a tool-smith. The joiner, etc., evidently teaches his son

who is eager for knowledge, that not every kind of wood is suitable for

his tools ; not fir and pine, but beech, maple, or birch ; not the wood

of trees with needles, but that of leafy trees or fruit-trees. And the

father employs the next walk with his son, not only to teach him to

know how to distinguish the leafy and needle trees, but also to teach

him to easily give the right names to beech, Scotch fir, and pox)lar.

The bark-peeler teaches his child who wishes to help him in his

work, about the use and employment of the oak and poplar bark,

and shows it to him the next time that he (the father) buys a piece

of sole-leather from the tanner in the city.

So the natural child, healthy in mind and body, leads the true

father ; and the careful father leads the child, who is ever seeking




for activity of body and mind, from the comitry to the city, from

Nature to Art, and, reversed, from trade to agriculture and horticul-

ture. And although the starting-point, the moving cause, is differ-

ent, yet it is possible to each of them to learn to know the sphere

of knowledge of others from his own, and to connect it with his

own. Every business and every trade, every calling of the father,

affords a starting-point for the acquisition of all human knowledge.

To wliat an amount of knowledge can the farmer's child be led

merely by his father's wagon and plough ! the miller's son by his

father's mill! the merchant's son by the raw or manufactured

natural productions which are objects of his father's trade

AVhat a wealth of knowledge can be developed from the different

employments of the manufacturer! what insights and discoveries,

which in the later school-life of the children can be given only

with pains and difficulty! These are the results of the domestic

and family life of the employed and unemployed, of the observed and

unobserved child.

The child— your child, fathers— anticipates this so deeply, so

vividly, so truly, that he hangs about you wherever you stay, where-

ever you go, whatever you do. Do not unkindly repulse him, do not

push him from you, do not be impatient with his frequent questions

With every hard, repellent, rebuffing word, you destroy a bud, a sprout,

on his tree of life. But do not answer him much by words when he

can without words answer himself ; for it is of course easier to hear

the answer of another, perhaps only to half hear and half understand,

than to seek to find it out for one's self. But the answer partially

found by himself is more to the child, and of more importance to him,

than half hearing and half understanding it : this last causes indo-

lence of thought and mind. Therefore do not always answer your

children's questions directlj^, but, as soon as they have sufficient power

and experience, give them the conditions to find the answer by their

insight.

Let us parents, especially us fathers (for to us is confided the spe-

cial tendance and guidance of the child at this age,— the child whois maturing into boyhood), rest on the perception of what the fulfil-

ment of our fatherly duties, our guidance of the children, gives to

us ; let us experience the joys which it gives to us ! It is not possi-

ble that a higher joy, a higher satisfaction, should come to us in any

way than that of the guidance of our children, of the life with our

childi-en : therefore let us live with our children. It is inconceivable




how we can expect and seek higher joy, greater profit, more com-

plete satisfaction of our noblest desires elsewhere than in employing

ourselves with our children; more recreation than in the circle of

our family, where we can create joy for ourselves in more than

twofold respects!

Yet could we but see the quiet father in his simple civic relations,

in his happy, joyous family, rej)resenting what has been only par-

tially stated here, the truth of the statement would then deeply

impress us. And his rule of conduct can be expressed in a few

words :" I consider it to be the first and most important part of the

education of children to lead them early to think."

It appears to him so natiu'al, and so much a matter of course,

to accustom the children to early habits of work and activity, as to

need no words on the subject. And, besides, will not the child who

is led to think be at the same time led to industry and activity,

to domestic and civic virtues ?

These words are a kernel from which unfolds a whole, shady,

evergreen tree of life, full of fragrant blossoms, and sound, ripe

fruit. Let us hear and observe the manner in which we allow our

children to wander around us without work, and therefore dead.

Section 41.

But— it is hard; yet it is true: if we only cast an examining,

searching glance upon and within ourselves in our intercourse with

our children, we must confess that no more is said than is true—we are dead, and what surrounds us is dead to us. We are empty

of all knowledge for our children. Almost every thing we say is

hollow and empty, without meaning and without life. Only in few

rare cases, when perception of Nature and life lie at the foundation

of our speech, do we enjoy the life of it.

Therefore let us hasten ; let us give life to ourselves, to our

children ; let ns through them give meaning to our speech, and life

to the objects surrounding us!

Therefore let us live with them; let

us permit them to live with us ; thus shall we receive through them

all that we need.

Our words, our conversation in social life, are dead, are empty

husks, puppets without life, coin without value, for they lack the

perception of the inner ; they lack contents. They are evil spirits,

because they have no body nor substance. Our surroundings are



MAK IK THE PERIOD OF HIS EARLIEST CHILDHOOD. 58

dead; objects are masses: they depress instead of elevating; for

they lack the vivifying word that gives sense and meaning.

We do not feel and discover the sense of our conversation, for it

consists of ideas learned from the outside, at the foundation of which

are neither perception nor formation . Therefore they do not cause

any perception, formation, or life, for they have not come, and do not

come, from life.

Our conversation resembles the book from which we have learned

it by rote, thougli only at third or fourth hand. We do not see, nor

can we form, what wê speak of. That is why our conversation is so

empty. Our inner and outer life and that of our children is so poor,

because our talk is not born of a life rich in seeing and creating

inwardly and outwardly, because our talk and our words lack the

contemplation of the thing which they indicate. Therefore we indeed

hear the sound, but we receive no image : we hear the noise, but we

see no action.

Section 42.

Fathers, parents, come, let our children supply us with what welack. The all-vivifying, all-forming power of child-life that we no

longer possess, let us receive again from them.

Let us learn from our children ; let us give ear to the gentle moni-

tions of their life, the quiet demands of their intellect. Let us live

with our children : so shall the lives of our children bring peace and

Joy to us ; so shall we begin to be and to become wise.

Section 43.

The objects of the outer world become most intimately connected

with the word, and by the word again most intimately connected with

the human being at the stage of his development which we have

been observing, and the perception and consideration of which we

have brought forward.

This stage is therefore pre-eminently the stage of development for

man's capacity for speech. On that account it was so indispensable

to connect the precise, clear word with every action of the child,

and to clearly designate each action. Every object, every thing,

becomes such for the child by the word. Before the word was given,

the thing had no existence for the child, though his outer eye seemed

to perceive it. A word created, as it were, the thing for the child




therefore word and thing seem to be and are one as much as pith

and stem, as branch and twig; and notwithstanding this inner

connection of the object with the word, and through the word with

man at this stage of the development of man, each object is quite

distinct from another, each object and each whole is again quite

unseparated in its parts,— a fact which cannot be clearly enough

perceived, or noticed with sufficient accuracy by parents and educa-

tors. But the destiny of man and of things makes quite a different

requisition : man is not only to view each thing as an undivided

whole ; but he is also to view it as capable of being separated into

parts for the representation of a jointaim. He

is

not only to recog-nize and view it as a whole, existing for itself as a unity and an

individuality, but he is to recognize and view each again as a part

of a respectively greater and higher totality for the representation

of a higher common aim. Not only the outer relations and connec-

tions of each thing, but its inner references, its inner union with

that which is outwardly separate from it, are to be recognized and

established.

Section 44.

Yet the totality of that which forms the outer world to man

cannot be recognized as such in its unity, but again only through

the knowledge of the individual being, of the peculiar natm-e of each

individual thing in its substantiality and personality.

But man recognizes with difficulty the inner natm'e of each thing

when it is brought too close to him inwardly and outwardly, and the

difficulty is increased in the measure that the thing is brought too

near him outwardly and inwardly, that it stands too near him in

both respects. The misunderstanding between parents and child

within the family circle, etc., gives frequent and speaking proofs of

this fact. For that reason it is generally so difficult for man to

recognize himself. An outward separation, on the contrary, fre-

quently brings forth inner union, inner discovery and recognition.

So, alas! man knows many strangers and strange objects, strangetimes, strange persons, better than his own neighborhood, his own

time, better than he knows himself. If man desires truly to

know himself, he must represent himself outwardly; must, as it

were, place himself opposite to himself. If, now, man is to rightly

recognize his destiny conformably to the nature of each thing in

the outer world around him, if he is by means of each thing to



MAN IN THE PEEIOD OF HIS EARLIEST CHILDHOOD. 55

rightly recognize himself, there must be for him after the age of

childhood a new stage, opposite in its nature to the preceding one,

uniting man and object ; outwardly opposing, but inwardly uniting,

man and object.

Such a stage, which brings the objects inwardly near to man by

separating word and object, recognizes object and word each as

something different from the other, distinct from it, yet uniting with

it. This stage is that in which language comes in as something

substantial, and existing for itself. This is the stage now following.

Man emerges from the stage of childhood into the stage of boyhood

with the separation of theword

from the thing,

andthe thing

fromthe word ; with the separation of the speech from the speaker, and

the reverse; with the even later embodying of speech by sign and

writing, and the contemplation of speech as something embodied.

This is the stage in which man by his power brings the outward

near to himself, and assimilates it.





Paet III.

MAN AS A BOY.

Section 45.

As the former stage of human development, the stage of cJiildhood,

was pre-eminently that of life, of mere living, as it was the stage at

which to make the internal external, so the present, the boy-stage,

is pre-eminently the stage to make the external internal, the stage of

learning.

On the part of the parents and educators the baby-stage was

pre-eminently the stage of fostering. The following space of time,

which claims man predominantly as a imity and for unity, is that

of predominating education. The just indicated stage of boyhood

claims man predominantly in single references and for individuals,

in order later to trace back their inner unity. The inner directions

in which the individualities stand among themselves are to be sought

out and proved.

To consider and treat the individuals by themselves, and in

reference to their inner relations to each other, is the province and

nature of instruction. And so the boy-time is predominantly the

time of instruction.

The business of developing and cultivating man in boyhood takes

place as instruction, not only according to the nature of the human

being, but predominantly according to the precise, fixed, and clear

laws lying in the nature of things, especially according to those

laws to which man and object are alike subject; or, to speak more

precisely, not so much in regard to the way in which the general

eternal law is expressed with peculiar reference to man, as in regard

to the way in which it is expressed with peculiar reference to every

object besides man, and in reference to the way it is expressed in

man and object mutually : therefore the business of developing and

cultivating man in boyhood takes place as instruction according to




fixed, precise limitations outside of him in this peculiar or general

form. According to this, instruction can and must take place only

with knowledge, insight, circumspection, inspection, and consciousness.

Such a procedure is called school in the widest sense of the word.

It is therefore school when man is brought to and attains to the

knowledge of the objects outside of himself, and of their nature

according to the special laws of these objects, and to the general

laws which rule all ; when man, by the bringing forward of the

outer, the particular, the individual, is brought to and attains to

the knowledge of the inner, the general, the unity. Therefore man

asa boy becomes

atonce a

scholar.

With the stage of boyhood comes also for man the beginning of

school, whether it be in or out of the house, by the father, by the

members of the family, or by a teacher.

By school, is therefore understood, neither the schoolroom nor

the school-teaching, but the conscious communication of knowledge

for an aim, and in an inner coherence of which the teacher is

conscious.

Section 46.

The development and cultivation of man to attain his destiny,

to fulfil his vocation, is (as it has appeared and continues to appear

on all sides) a perpetual, uninterruptedly continuous, unseparated

whole, always rising from one stage to another. From the feeling

of community awakened in the baby develops in the child the

impulse, the inclination. This impulse and inclination tend to

form the intellect and heart, and generate in the boy activity of

mind and will.

The principal aim, the principal point of reference, in the guid-

ance of the boy in the instruction given to him, as well as in the

school, is to raise the activity of the will to firmness of will, and so

to vivify and form a clear, vigorous, firm, and enduring will, to train

up and represent a pure humanity.

Section 47.

Will is the activity of the si)irit always consciously proceeding

from a definite point in a definite direction, to a definite, conscious

aim in harmony with the whole nature of man.

In this statement is said and determined all wliich parents and



MAN AS A r,OY. 59

educator, teacher and school, should give and be to the hoj, looking

upon hira in this point of view.

The starting-point of all the boy's activity of spirit should be

vigorous and healthy ; the fount from which his activity flows should

be pure, clear, and never stagnant; the direction should be simple

and definite;

the aim, assured, firm, and conscious, having life in

itself in accordance with its nature, developing life, nourishing, reju-

venating, elevating, and ennobling life, worthy of the efforts of man,

worthy of his calling and of his destiny, worthy of his nature, and

developing and representing his nature.

In order, therefore, to raise the natural activity of the will of the

boy to true, genuine firmness of will, all his activities, all his will,

must proceed from and refer to the development, the improvement,

and representation of the inner. Example and words, instruction,

later teaching and example, are the means by which this object may

be attained ; not examples alone, and not words alone. Not exam-

ple alone ; for example is single, individual, receiving its generality

and applicability by the word. Not word alone; for wôrd is general,

spiritual, often ambiguous, receiving perceptibility, significance, andexistence through example.

But example and word, instruction and example, cannot effect

this alone, but only in conjunction with a pure, good heart ; and the

education of childhood works to this end.

Therefore the training of the boys rests only on you; therefore

activity of will proceeds from activity of heart and mind ; firmness of

will, from firnniess of heart and mind; and, where the activity is

wanting, the firmness is difficult to attain.

Section 48.

But the expression of a good, pure heart, a thoughtful, pure mind,

is, as it bears a unity in itself, the fervent, the yearning effort to find

an inner necessary unity also for the outwardly separated things of

which he sees so

manyaround him,

andalso to find

for them aspiritually uniting, and an all-vivifying, spiritual bond and law, such

as it feels in itself, a bond and law whereby they will receive at

least the significance of life.

This eager desire is fulfilled to man in the stage of childhood by

finding liimseK in complete possession of animated play; since he, by

this play, is placed in the centre of all things. All things are placed




only in reference to him, to his life. Yet the fcamily life, above all,

gives the full satisfaction of this desire; only the family life gives

this development and perfecting of a good heart and of a thoughtful,

pure mind in their genuine activity and full vigor, which is beyond

all comparison important for each stage of formation, even for the

whole life of man.

Since, now, that uniting thought is the primary condition of all

genuine human development and training to perfection, and since

every separating thought disturbs the pure, human development, so

even as a child, man refers every thing to the family life, sees every

thing only through the family, in the mirror and formof the family

life, as childhood clearly shows.

The life of his own family is thus to the child an outward tiling,

and it becomes to him a model life. Parents should always consider

that the child would like to represent it as it seems to him in its

purity, its harmony, its efficacy.

Section 49.

But in the family the child sees his parents and other members

of the family, and sees the adults create, produce, do work in life

and in the relations which concern his family. And so the child,

also, at this stage wôuld himself like to represent what he sees. He

would like, and tries, to represent all that he sees his parents and

other adults do, create, represent, and perform ; all of which he recog-

nizes the possibility and manner of representation by human powers

and by members of humanity.

What before was in the child action for the sake of the activity

is in the boy activity for the sake of the work, of the result. The

child's impulse to activity has developed in the boy into an impulse

for formation : this fact solves the j^roblem of the whole outer life,

of the outward manifestations of boy-life.

How eagerly at first does the boy or girl at this age share the

work of father or mother, not the sportive and easy— no, no— the

fatiguing portions of the work,— those which require strength and

effort

Here be cautious, here be careful and thoughtful, parents. You

may here at one stroke destroy, at least for a long time, your children's

impulse to activity and formation, if you reject the help of your chil-

dren as childish, useless, even, perhaps, as hindering and intrusive.



MAN AS A BOY. 61

Do not allow yourself to be misled by the press of business : guard

yourself from saying, " Go away ! you only hinder me "; or " I must

hurry : let me do it quickly alone !

"

The inner activity of boy and girl becomes thus disturbed : they

see themselves put out from the whole, with whicli they felt them-

selves entirely one ; their power is excited ; they see themselves alone

they do not know how to begin any thing with the aroused power,

which is therefore wearisome and oppressive ; they become fretful and

idle.

This rejection by the parents need scarcely liappen three times to

prevent the child from coming forward againto

helpto

sharein

anywork. He stands aroimd now, fretful and ennuye, even if he now sees

the parents busy about work in which he could take part. And who

has not, later, heard from the parents the following complaint made

about children who had been so treated :" When the boy, the girl,

was small and could not help at all, it was busy with every thing

now that it has knowledge and power, it will do nothing"?

See, parents ! the first impulse to activity, the first desire for

formation, comes out to man conformably to the nature of the spirit

working within him, as yet unconsciously and unrecognized, without

his help, even against his will, as man in later life can still perceive

in himself. If, now, there comes up to man, especially in youth, an

outward hindrance of this inner summons to activity, and particularly

to formation, creation, and representation, which is always connected

with bodily effort,— such a hindrance as the will of the parents, which

cannot be set aside,— his power is immediately weakened, and, if this

experience is frequently repeated, withdraws wholly into the back-

ground, and subsides into inactivity.

The child thus disturbed neither asks nor considers whether or

why his help is allowable at one time, and not at another ; he selects

that which is in conformity with his physical nature. He the more

readily and willingly gives up this activity as he seems to be forced

to it by the will of his parents.

The child becomes idle ;

that is, his body is no longer interpene-

trated by spirit and life : it becomes to him a burden which he must

bear, whereas before the feeling of power did not permit him to

consider his body as such, but only as the vigorous bearer of the

interpenetrating power.

Therefore, parents, if you wish for help from your children later

and at a convenient time, nourish early in them the impulse of




activity, and, especially at the stage of lioyliood, the impulse to

formation, even though it should cost you some self-command, some

sacrifice. It will later repay you a hundred-fold, like good fruit

in good ground.

Strengthen, develop, confirm, this impulse;

give your child the

higliest which he now needs;permit him to put his strength into

your work, which, being yours, is especially dear to him, so that

he may acquire not only a consciousness, but a measure, of his

power.

If the earlier activity was only imitation of the domestic life,

the present actionis participation in

domesticaffairs,

— lifting,

pulling, carrying, digging, splitting. The boy will exercise, weigh,

and measure his strength in all these acts, that his body may be

strengthened, his power increased, and that he may obtain a measure

of his power. The son accompanies his father everywhere,— to the

field and into the garden, to the workshop and the printing-office,

to the employments of the forest and meadow, in the care of the

domestic animals and the manufacture of the smaller articles of

liouse-furniture, to the wood-sawing, wood-splitting, and wood-piling,

to all the different employments of the father, whatever his business

may be. Question after question presses forth from the knowledge-

seeking mind of the boy,— how? why? by what means? when?

wherefore? of what? for what? And every answer which is only

measurably satisfying opens to the boy a new world. Speech appears

to him everywhere as an intermediation, and therefore he perceives

its absoluteness.

The healthy boy of this age, who has been simply and naturally

trained in childhood, never avoids a difficulty, never goes round

a hindrance : no, he seeks it out, he overcomes it. " Let it lie,"

calls the vigorous youngster to his father, who wishes to remove a

niece of wood from the boy's path,— " let it lie : I can get over it !

"

With difficulty does the boy get over the first time ; but he has

got over unassisted ; strength and courage are increased in him

he goes back, climbs again over the obstruction, and soon gets overit as easily as if nothing lay in the way. As activity gave pleasure

to the child, so action gives pleasure to the boy. Hence the plienom-

ena of the daring, adventurous power of boyhood, the plunging into

holes and clefts, the climbing of trees and hills, the searching for

the high and the deep, the raml)ling in forests and fields.

Easy is the most difficult, without peril is the most adventurous



MAN AS A BOY. 63

for the prompting to it proceeds from the innermost nature, the

mind, the will.

But it is not alone the weighing and proving, exercising and

measuring the power, which attracts the boy even at this age toward

height and depth, width and breadth ; but it is especially the peculi-

arity and need of his now unfolding innermost life to survey the

manifold, to see the isolated in a whole, especially to bring near that

which is distant, to receive into himself the distance, the multiplicity,

the whole. He strives to extend his view, his range of vision, from

stage to stage.

The climbing of a new tree is for the boythe

discovery of a newworld ; the outlook from it shows every thing quite differently from

our usual crow^ded and shifting side-view^ If we could recall the

feelings that expand both heart and soul which we had in our

boyhood when the narrowing limits of the surroundings sank before

our extended gaze, we should not, when all lies so distinctly before

the boy, call to him so coldly, " Climb dowai, you will fall !

"

Not only by moving and standing does one learn to move and

stand ; not only by moving and standing, sitting and creeping, does

one protect one's self from a fall, but also by looking around and

from above. And how wholly different is even that to which we

are most accustomed, when we look upon it from above

Should we not early procure for our boy this elevation of spirit

and mind? Shall he not in the clear heights clear his thoughts, and

expand heart and mind, by his gaze into the distance ?

" But the boy is so adventurous I am never free from anxiety

about him."

The boy who has been brought up in the calm way suited to the

constant development of his strength will always make only a little

more demand upon his strength than it has proved capable of meet-

ing, and so he wdll pass through all these dangers as if guided by a

protecting genius ; while another, not knowing his own strength and

powers, ventures to do things for which he lacks, though ever so

slightly, the skilled strength required, and gets into danger even

where the most cautious would anticipate none.

Those boys are always the most rashly adventurous who, without

constantly practised strength, have all at once an influx of strength,

and at the same time the opportunity to use it. They will then,

especially if others are observing them, get into danger.

Not less developing and full of significance is the boy's inclination




to plunge into hollows and clefts, to ramble in the shady gi-ove and

in the gloomy forest. It is the effort to seek and find what is yet

undiscovered, the effort to bring into the light and close to himself

that which abides in gloom and shadows, and to appropriate it.

The boy brings back with him from such wanderings a rich booty

of imfamiliar stones and plants and animals which dwell in darkness

and retirement, — worms, bugs, spiders, lizards.

And "What is this? what is its name?" etc., are the questions to

which the boy seeks an answer on his return. With each word his

world becomes richer, the outward world clearer to him. Only, of

course, you must not call to the boy when he is approaching, " Fie,

throw that away, that is horrid !" or, " Drop that, it will bite you."

If the child obeys, he has also thrown away an essential part of

liis human power, and later you may say to him in vain, " See, that

is a harmless little creatm-e." His own understanding and reason

may say to him in vain the same thing ; his gaze is turned away, and

a sum of knowledge is lost to him ; while the boy scarcely six years

old will tell you things about the wonderful construction of a bug,

and the peculiar use of its limbs, which up to that time had passed

all unnoticed before your eyes. You may warn him to be careful

about grasping unfamiliar creatures, but not with solicitude.

But the genuine, vigorous boy of this age is by no means always

on the heights, by no means always in the depths and the gloom.

The same effort which draws him to hill and valley, namely, the

effort to look around, to look over, and to look into things, retains

its hold of him also on the plain. See, there he is making a garden

under the hedge, near the fence of his father's garden; there he

represents the course of a stream by his furrows and ditches ; there

he closely contemplates and looks into the effect of the fall or of

the pressm-e of the water on his little water-wheel. Here he obsei*ves

the proiêrty of swimming of a little piece of wood, or of a piece of

porous bark on the water he has dammed up to form a little pond.

A boy of this age is especially fond of employing himself with the

clear, running, easily movable water, in which the boy who wouldlike to have a clear idea of himself sees the image of his soul as in

a mirror; he also likes well to employ himself with plastic materials

(sand, clay). One might say that these employments are an ele-

ment of his life ; for he seeks now, because of sensations previously

gained of power over material, to gain mastery over these.

Every thing must subserve his impulse toward formation ; there



MAN AS A BOY. 65

ill the lieap of earth he makes a cellar, a cave ; upon it a garden, a

bench.

Boards, boughs, slats, and poles must be put together to form a

hut or house ;the deeply-fallen snow must be rolled up to form the

walls and ramparts of a fort ; and the rough stones on a hill nuist be

grouped together to make a castle— all in the thought, spirit, and

effort of nurn in his boyhood, in the thought and spirit of union and

appropriation.

See there the two scarcely seven-years-old boys, how they, putting

their arms round each other, peacefully and trustfully consulting,

wander down the jârd ! they wish to get some tools in order to build,

in a dark grove behind the house, a hut with bench and table, a

seat from whence their eyes can overlook the whole valley at one

glance, and see it as a beautiful whole composed of parts.

So the uniting but also self-resting thought unites all that comes

near it which is suited to its needs and inner conditions,— unites

stones and men in a mutual aim for a nmtual work. And thus each

soon forms his own peculiar world ; for the feeling that he has

slrenfjtli of his own soon also requires and conditions the possession

of a space of his own and material of his own, which belong exclusively

to him. Whether his kingdom, his province, his estate, as it were,

be a corner of the yard, of the house, or of the room ; whether it be

the space of a box or be in a bureau ; or whether it be a hollow, a

hut, a garden,— he, the boy, at this age must also have an outward

point of reference and union of his activity, which is best provided

and chosen by himself.

If the space to be filled is extended, if the province to be ruled

is largei_if the whole to be represented is composed of many parts,

then is shown the brotherly union of those who are like-minded.

And if those who are like-minded meet in equal efforts, and put their

hearts into it, either the work already begun is extended, or the

individual work is begun anew as a general work.

Would you parents, you trainers of children, you educators, see

in miniature, in a jpicture as it were, what is here indicated ? Lookwith me into this educational room and into this circle of more than

eight boys of from seven to ten years old.

On the large table in the much used room stands a box with

building-bricks (blocks in the form and relation of the mason's bricks,

each length about one-sixth of the actual size, of the most beautiful

and multiform material which can be furnished to the growing



QQ EDUCATION OF MAN.

power of the boy as means of representation);sand or saw-dust liave

also their place in the room; and the last walk into the beautiful

fir-wood has given a rich supply of beautiful green moss.

It is the time for free work, and each has now begun his work

for himself. There in that corner stands, quite hidden, a little chapel

cross and altar indicate the spirit of the idea : it is the work of a

little quiet boy. There on the chair two boys have undertaken

together a considerably larger work : it is a building of many stories,

which looks from the chair, as from a hill, into the valley. But

what has that boy built so quietly under the table ? It is a green

hill, on which is enthroned an old ruined citadel. Under the hands

of others a little village has extended into the plain.

Now each has finished his work : each now looks at it, at the

work of the others, and at the others. To each comes the thought

and wish to unite the isolated building, to form a whole, and scarcely

is the wish recognized as common to all than roads are laid in

common from the village to the ruined citadel, from the citadel to

the castle, from the castle to the chapel ; and meadows and brooks

are made between them.

Or, if you are there another time, some have made a landscape

of clay; another has made a cardboard house with windows and

doors; and another again has made boats of nut-shells. Each one

now looks at his work :" It is good ; but it stands alone." He looks

also at his neighbor's work :" It would be much prettier together."

And soon the house stands like a castle on the hill of the landscape;

and the boats swim on the little artificial sea ; and, to the delight of

all, the younger brings his shepherd and sheep to graze between the

hill and the lake. Now they all stand and look with satisfaction

at the work of their hands.

Or down yonder, by the spring, by the brook, how busy the older

boys are with their work ! They have built canals and locks, and

bridges and seaports, dams and mills ; each boy undisturbed by the

others, and not noticing their work. But now the water is to be

used according to its natm-e;

andships glide

uponit from the higher

to the lower water. But after each advance there is another barrier,

and each boy asserts his right while acknowledging the requirements

of the others. How can the difficulties be settled ? Only by agree-

ments ; and, like States, they bind themselves by strict agreements.

Who can demonstrate the many-sided significance, the manifold

fruits, of these boyish plays ? Only one thing stands firm and sui'e :



MAN AS A BOY. 67

these plays proceed from one thought and one spuit,— the one thought

and spirit of boyhood. And the boys who played thus were good

scholars, intelligent, and willing to learn, seeing and representing

clearly, diligent and assiduous ; and are now capable young men,

with well-trained heads and hearts, quick in expedients, and dextrous

in action ; and some of those who thus played are capable, clear-

sighted, circumspect men, and others will become so.

It is especially important for the boys at this age to pref)are their

own gardens for the sake of the result ; for man sees there (in the

garden), for the first time, the fruits proceeding from his action in

anorganic, necessarily limited, intellectually legitimate

way,—fruits

which in many ways depend upon his activity, though subject to the

inner laws of the powers of Iâture. This work gives many-sided

and full satisfaction to the boy's life with Nature, his questions about

it, and the earnest desire to know Natm'e, which leads him repeatedly

to contemplate plants and flowers for a long time, and to observe

them thoughtfully. And Nature also seems especially favorable to

this desire and this employment, and to especially bless them by a

fortunate result ; for it seems, by a glance at the gardens of chil-

dren and boys, that the plants which the boys only in some degree

tend and cherish, grow and bloom with remarkable health and

freshness : it seems, indeed, that the plants and flowers which the

boys watch and tend with especial love, live with them, as it were,

and bloom with especial brightness and joyousness.

If the boy cannot have any garden of his own to tend, he should

at least own a couple of plants in boxes or flower-pots, and these

plants should not be rare, hard to raise, or double ; no ! they should

be easily grown, common plants, such as have an abundance of leaves

and flowers.

The child or boy who has tended or protected an outer life, even

if of a very inferior degree, is more easily led to the tendance and

care of his own life. And the boy's desire to observe living, natm-al

objects, beetles, butterflies, swallows, is also satisfied by the care of

plants, as such creatures like to come near the plant-world.

But all the plays and employments of boys of this age are by no

means only representations of objects and things : many plays are

pre-eminently exercises and tests of strength ; many have no other

aim than that of showing strength.

Yet the play of this age has always a peculiar character, corre-

sponding to the inner life of the boy. As in the previous space of



68 EDUCATION OF MAX.

time, that of cliildhood, activity alone Avas the ohject of the play, so

now its object is a definite conscious aim ; it is repr-esentation as such,

the act of representing ; and this character of the free, boyish plays,

is more and more perfected in his advancing years. So with all

plays of bodily movement,— the plays of running, wrestling, boxing,

ball-plays, goal, fighting and limiting plays, etc.

The feeling of certain, sure strength, the feeling of heightening

and increasing this strength in himself and his playmates, is what

fills the boy with such all-pervading, jubilant pleasure in these plays.

But it is by no means only the bodily strength which here receives

such great and strengthening nourishment, but the s^writual, the

moral strength appears to be heightened, increased, made definite

and sure by all these plays; so that when the question comes w^

which side the scale shall turn, v.diether on the bodily or spiritual

side, the overweight will hardly be on the side of the body. Justice,

moderation, self-command, veracity, honesty, brotherliness, and also

strict impartiality will spring up, like beautiful flowers of heart,

mind, and firm will ; and M'ho, when he approaches a circle of such

playing boys, does not perceive the fragrance of these flowers? Thebeautifully colored, though perhaps less fragrant flowers, courage,

endurance, resolution, presence of mind, severe criticism of and with-

drawal from pleasant indolence, may form no part of the bouquet.

Whoever desires to inspire a fresh, refreshing breath of life,

should visit the playground of such boys.

But more delicate, fragrant blossoms bloom, and the courageous,

free boy spares them, as the courageous horse does the child in the

path of his rapid course. These delicate flowers, resembling the

violet and snowdrop, are sparing, tolerating, cherishing, encom-aging

towards those who are, not through their own fault, weaker, more

delicate, or younger; and fairness towards those who are not yet

familiar with the play.

Would that all would consider this who only just tolerate giving

boy-plays a place in the education of boys

True, many a word is rough, and many an action saucy;

but thestrength exists previously to the cultivated strength. There must be

the sensation of strength before the strength can manifest itself as

cultivated. Sharp, clear, and penetrating are the boy's eye, gaze,

and sense for the recognition of the inner ; and therefore sharp and

precise, even hard and rough, is his judgment toward those equally

endowed with judgment and strength, or who, at least, act as if they

were thus endowed.



MAN AS A BOY. 69

Each town should have a pkiy-place for its boy-world that is

common to all. Glorious would be the fruits which would proceed

therefrom for the whole community; for the plays at this stage of

development are held in common whenever it is possible, thus devel-

oi:>ing the sensation of community, the laws and requirements of the

community.

The boy seeks to see himself in his playmates, to feel himself in

them, to measure himself by them, to recognize and find himself by

means of them. So the plays directly influence and form the boy

for his life, awaken and nourish many civic and moral virtues.

Yet seasons and circumstances do not always permit the boy,free from the duties of home and school, to exercise and develop his

strength in the open air; and the boy should never be absolutely

inactive: therefore all kinds of other outward* employments and

representations which are connected with house and room, especially

what is called mechanical work, work with paper, cardboard, mould-

ing, etc., make so essential a part of the action and guidance of the

boy at this age, and are so important for him.

Yet there is still in man an effort, an earnest desire, a demand of

the mind, which is not satisfied by all the outward employments and

activity. All w^hich outward employment and activity give to man

at this stage is not lasting enough for him; is not lasting enough

for what he seeks and needs in education suited to his nature ; the

present, with all its fulness and all its richness, cannot satisfy him.

From the fact that something is in the present, he recognizes that

something was* in the past. He would like to know of what existed

before him. He would like to know the jiast cause of what is

present: indeed, he wdshes that what has remained from the old

time should tell him of itself, of the foundation of its existence, of

that old time.

Who does not remember clearly the earnest desire of his boyhood,

especially of his more matured boyhood, winch clearly and loudly

expressed itself in his mind when he looked at old ruined walls, old

towers, even only buildings, also when he looked at old monumentsand columns on the heights and by the wayside, that others would

tell him of these objects, of their time, and of their origin ?

AVho has not then observed in himself a dim, indefinite feeling, as

if these objects could and would some time tell him of themselves

and of their times?

And who, according to his experience, can tell him of these




things but those who were in existence before him,— his elders? He

earnestly desires that they should tell hiin of these things ; and thus

•develops, in a boy of this age, the need of and strong desire for narra-

tive, for tales, for all kinds of stories, and later, for accounts of

historical events.

This urgent desire, especially at first, is uncommonly great at this

age ; so great, that, when it is not satisfied by others, the boys seek

its satisfaction from each other, especially at the seasons and on the

days of rest ; that is, when the bodily employments and affairs of the

day are ended.

Who has not seen, and W'ho has not been filled with anxiety by

seeing, how a circle of boys at this age collect around the one whom

they have chosen for their story-teller because of his good memory

and vivid imagination ; how they listen with strained attention ; how

his story fulfils the wish of their life, and confirms act, deed, and

judgment by action ; in a wôrd, brings before them example and

word in union wdth their inner natm-e ! But the present, in which

the boy lives, contains still much which man in this stage of devel-

opment cannot explain to himself, much as he would like to do so

much which seems to him dumb, and which he wôuld like to have

speak ; much which seems dead to him, and which he wishes should

be living and animated.

He wishes others to undertake this explanation, to make him hear

the quiet speech of the objects wdiich to him are silent, to give speech

to silent objects ; he wishes that the inner, living coherence of things

which his innermost nature anticipates should be clearly expressed

to him by wôrd and speech.

But it is not always possible, and sometimes it is quite impossible,

for these others to fulfil the boy's wish, and so there develops in him

the need and earnest desire for fables and legends, both of which

attribute s];)eech and reason to speechless objects,— the one within,

the other wdthout, the limits of human relations, and human, earthly

phenomena.

This, also, has certainly been remarked by every one who hasremarked the life of boys of this age with somewhat deep and com-

prehensive attention. So, if here also this need is not and can not

be satisfied by his elders, the boy of his own accord falls upon the

invention and representation of legends and fables, and improves

upon them either only in his owai mind, or also for the benefit of

companions of his own age, whom he delights with these stories.



MAN AS A BOY. 71

These legends and stories, then, very ex]>ressiYely demonstrate to

the observer what is going on in the deep mind of the young story-

teller, though doubtless only unconsciously to himself.

He wishes to hear expressed by others what he himself feels, -what

lives in him, and what he yet lacks the language to express himself.

What does the boy's mind anticipate, what brings joy and pleas-

ure to his swelling heart, like the feeling of strength and of the

spring-time of his life, which he desires to put into words ? But he

feels himself too yonng for this. He seeks for words, and, since he

cannot yet find such in himself, he is greatly delighted to find them

outside of himself, in sentences, and especially in song.

Does not the joyous, animated boy at this stage like to sing?

Does he not first feel himseK truly living in song? Is it not the

feeling of a growing strength which makes the animating song ring

out so loudly from his lips and from his healthy throat as he rambles

from the valley to the hill, or from hill to hill ?

The boy is enchained by the urgent desire to have a clear idea of

himself. So we saw him by the clear, pure, running, still or rippling

water. The water always draws him back to it in his plays, because

he sees in it himself, the image of his soul, and hopes by it to obtain

a clear idea of his spiritual being.

What the water is in the brook and lake, what the pure air and

clear distance from the top of the hill are for the soul of the boy, that

his play is to him,— a mirror of the combat of life awaiting him in

the future : therefore, in order to strengthen him for this combat,

man in his later youth, and even in his boyhood, seeks out obstruc-

tions, difficulty, and combat in his play.

The boy is repeatedly seized with the renewed desire to obtain

knowledge of ancient times and of Nature, at the sight of flowers,

old walls, and fallen arches. The earnest desire to represent what

makes his mind and heart swell attracts him to song; and so it is

certain that very many of the outer phenomena, very much of the

behavior and actions of the boy, have an inner and spiritual signifi-

cance, and indicate his spiritual life and strivings, and are thereforesymbolic.

How wholesome it would be for parents and child, for their pres-

ent and future, if the parents believed in this symbolism of this

stage of child-life and boy-life! If parents would observe the life of

their children in this respect, what a new, living bond would unite

parents and child ! what a new thread of life would be drawn

between their present and their future life




Section 50.

Such is the pure boy-life of this age.

If we now look upon this presentation of the inner and outer

pure life of boys and children, which blesses man where a guidance

and education of children and boys suited to the human nature and

to the human being predominates, and, indeed, in greater beauty

and fulness and animation than is here represented ; if we now look

from this pure life of children and -boys on their life as it, alas ! not

seldom shows itself to us actually, though only partially ; if we look

especially into the childlike, brotherly,domestic, active,

and busylife

of the child and boy as a scholar and playmate,— we must frankly

confess the latter differs in many respects from the formei" ; that in

the latter we meet with self-will, defiance, love of ease, spiritual

and bodily supineness and indolence, frivolity and self-conceit, posi-

tiveness and desire to rule, unbrotherliness and unchildlikeness,

emptiness and superficiality, aversion to labor and even to play,

disobedience and profanity (forgetfulness of God), etc.

If we look, if we seek, now for the spring of these and of the manyother faults which appear in the life of the child and the boy which

can l)e by no means denied, a twofold cause appears : first, completely

neglected development of the different sides of the human being, then

the early faulty direction, the early faulty unnatural stages of devel-

opment, and distortion of the originally good powers, qualities, and

efforts of man by wilful, lawless interference in the original, legiti-

mate, and necessary course of development of the human being.

Section 51.

For indeed the nature of man is in itself good, and there are in

man qualities and efforts good in themselves. Man is by no means

bad in himself, and his qualities are in themselves not bad, and still

less are they evil, if one does not call evil, bad, and erroneous as

such and in its properties and results the finite, corporeal, transi-

tory, and hodihj, which has its inevitable foundation and its existence

in the appearance of the eternal in the temporal and as temporal, of

the one in the individual and as individual, in the destiny of man to

consciousness, reason, and freedom, and what necessarily follows,

that man must be able to fail in order to be good and virtuous, that

he must be able to become a slave in order to be truly free.



MAN AS A BOY. 73

Whoever is to do thcat which is divine and eternal with self-

determination and freedom must be able and permitted to do that

which is earthly and finite.

Since God wished to make himself known in the finite, it could

be done only by means of the finite and transitory.

Whoever, therefore, calls the temporal, individual, finite, corpo-

real, and bodily, bad in itself, in saying this contemns Xature in

itself : indeed he, to speak truly, slanders God.

Just in the same way it is treason to humanity and man to say

that he is according to his nature, that he is in himself, neither

good nor bad ; and it is higher treason to say that man is in him-

self and according to his nature bad. A man saying this annihi-

lates God for the human being; for he annihilates the work of

God, and thus the means and way of truly knowing God, and so

brings the lie, the only fount of all evil, into the wôrld.

Section 52.

If there is an evil which can be called evil in itself, it is this,

because it is the first evil. But the lie has no existence in itself;

it is already annihilated, and, as it is already annihilated according

to its nature, will also be annihilated as an appearance, for man is

created neither with lying nor for lying, but with and for truth.

Man also does not create the lie from himself, from his nature, but

man can and does create the lie just because he is created by God

for truth. Man creates the lie when he does not acknowledge this

for himself or for others. Man creates the lie by hindering the

human being from recognizing this in himself from the pure fount

of his being, and from making others acknowledge it.

The destiny of man as an earthly being is that body and soul

be developed consciously and reasonably in a certain symmetry and

proportion. If man could only come to a pure and clear knowledge

of his being, if he, when he has come to a whole or partial knowledge

and insight, were not made so strengthless, and devoid of will, bypampering and debilitating, he would of his own accord throw off

all incorrectness, even the appearance of evil, which is in man and

is done by man, which, as it were, clothes him, and sm-rounds him as

a wall of deceit. All this incorrectness and wrong has its foundation

merely in the disturbed relations of these two sides of man, his nature

and his being.




Therefore an originally good but misshaped or displaced quality,

a good effort, only repressed, misunderstood or misdirected, or

misled, lies at the foundation of all appearance of incorrectness in

man.

And therefore the only but never delusive means of annihilating

and abolishing all incorrectness, even wickedness and evil, is to exert

one's self to seek and find the original good fount of the human

being, in the misshaping, disturbing, or misguiding of which lies

the cause of the incorrectness, and, having found it, to nourish,

foster, strengthen, and rightly guide it. Thus will the incorrectness

finally disappear, though not without laborious combat, not with the

original, but ivWi the habitual evil in man; and this disappearance

will take place so much the more quickly and surely because man

himself abandons the path of incorrectness ; foi' man prefers the right

to the wrong.

Section 53.

So, selecting one point from the many, it cannot be denied that

there is now extremely little actually childlike, genuinely innocent

feeling, very little brotherly tolerance, very little genuine religious

feeling, in the child-world and boy-world, but, on the contrary, much

seK-seeking, unfriendliness, especially roughness, etc., rule in these

worlds. The cause thereof lies simply and only in the fact that

the feeling of community is not only not early awakened, or later

nourished, in the child and boy, but, on the contrary, is early dis-

turbed, even annihilated, between parents and children.

If, therefore, genuine brotherliness, genuine childlikeness, trusting^

genuinely loving, innocent feeling, peaceableness, consideration and

respect for playmates and fellow-men, are again to become prevalent,

they can become so only by being connected with the feeling of com-

munity abiding in each man (however much or little of it may be

found), and by fostering this feeling with the greatest care. Then

we also will certainly soon again possess that, the absence of which

in respect to family life, human life, and religious life we now feel

with the greatest pain.

Another cause of many boyish errors is the over-haste, the want of

caution, the frivolousness, in a word the thoughtlessness,— that is, the

acting according to an impulse quite blameless, guiltless, even praise-

worthy,— which captivates all the activity of body and senses, but the

consequences of satisfying which in this individual case did not show



MAN AS A BOY. 75

themselves to the boy in his life-experience ; and also it did not at all

enter his mind to define to himself the conseqnences of the act, from

a consideration of the thing itself.

So a boy whose mind is far from being evil powdered with pure

powdered gypsum the wig of an uncle very dear to him, with real

delight in his work, and without the least thought of wrong, still less

without thinking that the sharp, ground stone must be injurious to

the hair.

Another boy found in a great tub of water some deep round bowls

of porcelain : he accidentally remarked that these bowls, falling uj)side

down on the smooth, quiet surface of the water, gave out a ringing-sound with a quickening movement. This phenomenon gave him

pleasure : he tried it often, assuring himself that the bowl could not

break in the deep, yielding water. This proceeding often succeeded

and, in order to make the effect more agreeable, the bowl must be

dropped from greater and greater heights.

But once the bowl fell down so horizontally, and on the horizontal

surface of the water, that the air compressed between the arch of the

bowl and the water could not yield on any side, and yet was so pressed

together that its force separated the perfectly uncracked bowl into two

almost equal pieces. The little self-teaching, experimental philosopher

stood concerned and troubled at the unexpected result of the highly

enjoyable play.

Yet the boy is far more short-sighted, almost unbelievably short-

sighted, in following his impulses.

Another boy threw stones for a long time at the small window

of a neighboring building, with earnest effort to hit it, but without

anticipating, or even saying to himself, that, if the stone hit the

window according to his desire, the window must necessarily be

broken. The stone hits; the window breaks; the boy stands rooted

to the spot.

So another boy, by no means malicious, on the contrary a very

good-hearted boy, w^ho dearly loved and took care of the doves, aimed

at his neighbor's beautiful dove which was on the ridge of the house,

with perfect delight, and earnest effort to hit the mark, without con-

sidering, that, if the bullet hit it, the dove must inevitably fall ; with-

out the further consideration that the dove might be a mother whose

young were still in need of her care. He shot ; the bullet hit ; the

beautiful dove fell : a beautiful pair of doves were separated, and the

young doves, scarcely fledged, had lost the mother who had fed and

warmed them.




It is certainly a very deep truth, a non-acknowledgment of which

avenges itself daily, that it is mostly the man, often the educator, who

first makes the child and the boy bad. This takes place when one

always attributes an evil, bad, or at least a wrong intention to all

which, on the part of the boy or child, takes place either from want

of knowledge, inconsiderateness, or is, indeed, the consequence of a

very clear and acute percej)tion of the right and wrong around him,

and so from a very virtuous and praiseworthy feeling of the right.

There are, alas ! still such mischievous men among the educators :

they always see in the children and boys little, wicked, spiteful devils,

where others wouldsee, at worst, a jest carried too far, or the too free

manifestation of their enjoyment of life. Such birds of evil, especially

as educators, first make guilty such a child, who, though not fully

innocent, is yet guiltless; for they put ideas and actions into him

which are as yet foreign to him ; they make him bad in act, though

not at first in will ; they beat him spiritually dead, so that he recog

nizes that he has not this life from himself, and cannot give it to him-

self. But the genuine life is now gone. He cannot give it to himself

and what now avails knowledge without deed ? what avails the power-

less wish without the power of action ? That which these educators

have made bad and evil by believing that a child cannot attain to the

possession of heaven, cannot carry a heaven in his mind, without pre-

viously, to speak mildlj'-, going to it through guilt,— that will the dear

God make good ;and tliat they call making the child pious.

This proceeding is like that of the little kind-hearted child who says,

with firm conviction, about his fly or his bug, which, from his much

handling, is feeble, also, indeed, footless, " it is tame." So there are

still children and boys who, with great seeming incorrectness, on

account of not perceiving, not considering, and also not knoM'ing, the

outward relations of life, since they give themselves up so wholly to

the attracting inner life, yet liave the most inward yearning and desire

to be good and virtuous. But such boys, alas! become actually bad in

themselves, just because they are too frequently not only not under-

stood, but even misconceived, in their most fervent strivings. But yet,

if this acknowledgment of their striving should come to them at the

right time, they would certainly often become the most virtuous of

men without comparison.

Yes, children and boys are often punished l)y adults, parents, and

educators, for faults and errors which they had perhaps previously

acquired from the adults.



MAN AS A BOY. 77

Punishment, especially punishment by word, very frequently first

implants faults in the children, and even brings first to their knowl-

edge faults which they do not at all possess.

Section 54.

The man, therefore, sins far more against the children than against

God ; for what power has the bad action of the good-for-nothing child

over the proved, acknowledged virtue of the father? Yet what harm

this child can do to the soul and body of a younger child by word and

deed ! This is also the relation of man to man, and of man to God.

Section 5.5.

As has been already indicated, a deeper, more anticipating, more

yearning feeling in the boy's mind goes through all that he does in

this space of time. All his actions have a character in common ; for

he seeks to find the unity which unites all things and all beings, and

thus also to find himself in and among all things.

A yearning which he himself cannot explain attracts him especially

to the things of Nature,— to the plants, flowers, etc., which dwell in

obscurity ; for a sure feeling tells him that what will satisfy the yearn-

ing of his mind is not manifest and outward, but must be demanded

from obscurity and gloom.

The nourishment of this yearning is not only early neglected, but

even the efforts of the boy to nourish it himself are, alas ! too early

disturbed ; for the naturally-trained boy of this age, though feebly and

unconsciously, though the indications of his seeking are unknownto himself, actually seeks only the unity w^hich unites all things, the

necessarily living unity, the cause of all things, — God. The boy

seeks not the god made and formed by human skill and human

understanding, but Him who is always near to heart and mind, to the

living spirit, and therefore known only in spirit and in truth, and

to whom only such aspirations can rise.

The boy in his maturity finds satisfaction only in having foimd

Him whom he had anticipated in his inexplicable yearning and seek-

ing, because then only has he first found himself.

Hence the freely-active inner and outer life of the boy in the

school-age and as a scholar.

Now what is school ?





Paet IV.

MAJ^ AS A SCHOLAR.

1. WHAT IS SCHOOL?

Section 56.

School is the effort to bring the scholar to the right consciousness

of the nature and inner life of things and of himself; to teach him

to know, and to make him conscious of, the inner relation of things to

each other, to the scholar, and to the living cause and clear unity of

all things,— to God.The aim of this instruction is to bring the child to an insight into

the unity of all things, and to the rest, existence, and life of all

things in God, in order to be able to act and work in life in accord-

ance with this insight. The way of attaining this purpose is instruc-

tion, teaching.

Therefore the outer M'orld, and he himself as belonging to it in

a certain respect, comes to the scholar by school and instruction as

a thing opposite to him, separate from him, foreign to him, and

diiferent from him.

Then the school demonstrates further the inner directions, rela-

tions, and references of particular things to one another, and mounts

thus to higher and higher generality and spirituality.

Therefore the scholar and boy, as he enters the school, rises from

the outward view" of things to a higher spiritual view.

This coming-out of the child from theouter

andsuperficial,

andhis entrance into the inner view of things, which, because it is inner,

leads to recognition, insight, and consciousness, — this coming-out of

the child from the house order to the highej' world order makes the

boy a scholar, the school a school.

The school as an institution for the appropriation of a larger

or smaller quantity of manifoldnesses, and therefore externalities make




the school by no means a school, but only the intellectual, living

breath which animates all things, and in which all things move.

Would that all those who apply themselves to the guidance,

management, direction, etc., of the school as a vocation, would deeply

reflect upon this

Therefore the school purely as such presupposes a clear conscious-

ness which, as it were, hovers between the outside world and the

scholar, unites the being of both in itself, bears the inner nature

of both in itself, forms a connection between the two, gives speech

and reciprocal understanding to both; and this consciousness is the

masterin this art,

andtherefore called master, because he is to be

in a position to demonstrate the unity of things, at least for the

majority. He is a schoolmaster, because he is to demonstrate the

inner nature of things to himself and to others, and to bring himself

and others into an insight into this nature.

Every school-child anticipates, hopes, believes, and requires this

from his schoolmaster. This anticipation, this hope, and this belief

form the invisil;)le, efficacious bond between them.

This anticipation and hope, this childlike faith of the children,

is indeed the means by which our old schoolmasters effected much

more for the promotion of genuine inner life in their children than

many of the present school-teachers who familiarize the children

with so great a quantity of things without showing and connecting

them in their necessary spiritual unity.

Do not reply that, even if this higher view of the school be true,

and if a spiritual inner type of the same have existence, it would be

very difficult to actually demonstrate it, at least wdiere a tailor as

schoolmaster sits on his table as on a throne, and the school-children

below him recite their a-b, ab, arid their sum total of all teaching in

a sing-song fashion ; and where an old wood-cleaver in a dark city

room in winter drives in the explanation of the little Lutheran

Catechism as he does his wedge in wood-splitting, there would indeed

be no question of a spiritual breath, being, and life !

But this is just the question: otherwise, how could the blind showthe way to the lame? and the crippled help the weak upon their

legs ? Nothing but the anticipation and faith of the child and boy,

the idea of the child who hopes and believes that his schoolmaster,

just because he is a school-master, can therefore inwardly and spiritu-

ally unite that which is outwardly separate, can give life to the dead,

and significance to life.



MAX AS A SCHOLAR. 81

This anticipation, however misty, however obscured, it may be,

is the only means by which the schoohiiaster effects w^hat he does

effect : this anticipation and faith are the all-vivifying air by which

the stones he gives the children to eat become food, if not for their

heads, yet for their hearts. This anticipation, hope, and yearning,

this all-vivifying breath, is what makes his school so dear to the

schoolboy, though it should blow within four smoky walls.

The genuine spirit of the school, like the spirit of Jesus and of

God, comes not by outward observation; and so schoolrooms as such

are not airy if the breath of the higher spiritual life be excluded from

them. Clear, bright schoolrooms are a great and precious gift, and

worthy the daily thanks of teacher and scholars ; but they, as such,

do not supply this breath.

Luther's words, " to fast and prepare one's self bodily is indeed a

fine outw-ard exercise, but he is wôrthy and well prepared who has

faith and trust," find here also their application.

The faith and trust, the hope and anticipation, with which the

child enters the school, produce all the gigantic results in the above-

named schools. For the child enters the school with the childlike

belief, the quiet hope, the dim anticipation, that here he will be taught

something which he cannot learn outside the school : here he will

receive food for his spirit and mind, and outside, food for his body

only : so the child later hopes and anticipates that here he will find

food and drink which satisfy hunger and thirst, there food and drink

for which he again hungers and thirsts.

With this faith also, he hears the customary speech in the mouth

of the man who is his schoolmaster.

If the speech and word contain no high spiritual thought, yet

the child's faith finds it in them ; and the high spii'itual power of

digestion of the child draws nourishment from wood and straw.

If, now, even the tailor, or wood-cutter, or weaver, when he teaches,

ceases to be a tailor, wood-cutter, or weaver to the child, but becomes

to him what he is called, a schoolmaster, how much more is this

the case when the schoolmaster in village or city, whether he becalled organist, chorister, or rector, is or was truly a schoolmaster.

But each genuine school-child, every one who has been a genuine

school-child in village or city, inquires of himself with what feelings

he approached the schoolhouse, and yet more with what feelings he

entered the schoolroom ; how it always wâs to him as if he entered

a higher intellectual world of which he was each day more or less

conscious.




How otherwise could it be possible that children who have been

taken to school scarcely a whole week could daily repeat a text from

the Sunday preaching— " Seek ye first the kingdom of God "— for

more than a quarter of an hour without weariness, and with a feeling

of heightened life?

And how otherwise were it possible that songs so rich in metaphor,

and so extraordinarily full of figures as " It costs much to be a

Christian," " May my heart and spirit soar to thee," could be daily

sung by each scholar for a whole week in portions, even appropriated,

or, as it is outwardly called, " learned by heart," with pleasure, with

true inner exaltation, and with active influence on his life, not in the

mature, but in the middle stage of boyhood ; and so thoroughly

learned by heart that youth and man in the storms and pressure of

life could rest on them as on a rock, and raise himself by them as

by a tree ?

The petulance of the boy in the school is no contradiction to this.

The boy feels more free, and moves more freely, just because of the

effect of the school, of the heightened inner intellectual power and

the attained aim of the school, the nourishment afforded by it.

The genuine schoolboy should not hang his head and be indo-

lent, but should be fresh in spirit and life, vigorous in mind and

body.

Therefore the actually wilful schoolboy, gayly yielding to his

hearty, high spirits, scarcely imagines that it can have any injurious

result in respect to the outer life.

It is a very false idea that the inworking, animating, uniting

(intensive) power of man increases with years and cultivation. The

inworking, animating, uniting' power decreases, while the expansive,

outworking, forming, diversifying (extensive) power increases.

The feeling and consciousness of the extensive forming power in

man destroys, alas ! so frequently, the recognition and acknowledg-

ment of the inworking, animating, uniting power before existing.

This and the alternation of the two in the nature and in the appear-

ance of the child leads us in life to the great mistakes in the school-

system and in the guidance of the children, which we so frequently

meet, and which take from the life of each one its real foundation.

We now trust too little to the inworking and uniting power in

childhood and early boyhood ; we expect too little of it as a spiritu-

ally animating power. Therefore it accomplishes so little, even in

later boyhood ; for the non-use of the inner jôwer makes the inner

power die out.



MAN AS A SCHOLAR. 83

Or we play with the power commg forth in the children, and

remarked by them; therefore it is to us with them as wîth a magnet

which one idly allows to hang, or even to lie, without supplying it

with any thing to carry, or who lawlessly plays with its magnetic

effects. In both cases the power decreases, or is wholly lost : if the

magnet be required later to show its power, it is found powerless,

it has no effect. So with these children : if we wish later to give

them physically and morally something to bear, they prove them-

selves weaklings.

Would that we, in order to attain to a right judgment and estmia-

tion of the animating power of child and boy, might never forget

what one of our greatest Germans said, that thei'e is a greater step

from an infant to a speaking child than from a schoolboy to a

Newton

If, therefore, the step up to childhood be a greater step, the power

must also be higher. We should ponder upon this. The later extension,

manifoldness, individuality, and formed state of the man's knowledge

and insight (of his extensiveness) dims and even destroys the

apprehension of the earlier unity, union, and vividness (intensiveness)

of the human being: therefore it is the spirit only which makes the

school a school, the room a schoolroom. It is not the yet greater

dismemberment and isolation of what is single in itself, which indeed

knows no bounds, and repeatedly sets up a new cause for dismember-

ment and isolation, which makes the school a school, but the union

of the indi\idual and the divided, by observation, perception, and

recognition of the uniting spirit, which abides in all individuality

and all manifoldness.

Never forget that the teaching and communication of a multi-

plicity of facts does not make the school a school, but only the

giving prominence to the eternally living unity that is in all things.

But, because this is now so frequently forgotten or disregarded,

there are now so many school-teachers and so few schoolmasters;

so many educational institutions, but so few schools.

One may indeed not know, or at least may not have stated andmay still not state with sufficient clearness and precision, what spirit

actually breathed in genuine schools, and even yet breathes here

and there ; what spirit and what breath is yet to actually animate

schools.

The genuine, true schoolmaster, in the simplicity of his calling, may

indeed not have himself recognized the spirit, may not have named




and declared it ; and even now, ^Yhile thoroughly penetrated by it, in

loyalty to his calling may not himself recognize, name, and declare it.

But just for that reason it disappeared so easily and quickly, and

now disappears more and more.

We see also confirmed, what to our sorrow we so often find in life,

that even the highest, most precious good is lost to man, if he does not

know what he possesses, if he is not conscious of it, and therefore

does not hold it fast and represent it of his own accord with conscious-

ness and freedom. The anticipation and hope, the faith and thought,

of the child, point out the way indeed ; but the consciousness, insight,

and self-determination of the man must clearly andenduringly retain

it. For man is destined to consciousness and to acting with freedom

by his own choice.

Section 57.

With the vivid presentation of what school is, and is to be, comes

out also the truth that the object in which the boy is to be instructed

is also at the same time the one ahout which he is to be instructed

otherwise the instruction and learning remain a thoughtless play,

without effect on head and heart, spirit and mind.

What has been said will answer, or make it easy to answer, the

questions : Shall there be schools ? Why shall there be scliools and

instruction ? What and how shall they be ?

We as spiritual and corporeal beings are to become thinking, con-

scious, rational (perceiving, that is, feeling and experiencing with self-

knowledge), and therefore discreetly-acting men. We are to seek first

for cultivation of our power, of our spirit, as received from God, for

the exhibition of the godlike in life, knowing that then justice and

satisfaction will be secured for all earthly things. AVe are to increase

in wisdom and understanding with God and man in things human

and divine. We are to know that we are and shall be in Him who is

our Father. We are to know that we, and all things upon earth, are,

in accordance with our earthly existence, a temple of the living God.

We are to know that we are to be perfect like our Father in heaven,

and we are faithfully to act and work in conformity with this knowl-

edge. To this the school is to lead us ; for this reason there should

be schools and instruction ; for this reason they should be constituted

in conformity with this aim.




2. AYHAT SHALL SCHOOLS TEACH?

Section 58.

What now shall the school teach ?

In what shall the boy be instructed as a scholar ?

Only the contemplation of what the development of man at the

boy-stage is and requires can lead to the answer to this question.

But the knowledge of what he is and requires proceeds from man's

appearance as aboy.

According to this appearance, according to the manner of his

appearance, in what should the boy be instructed?

The life and appearance of man as a boy at the beginning shows

a lively impression of a peculiar, spii'itual self, and shows the dim

anticipation that this spiritual self is limited by, proceeds from, and

depends on, a higher Being, in whom also the existence of all things

is limited, from whom all things proceed, and on whom all things are

dependent. The life and appearance of man as a boy shows a lively

feeling and anticipation of a living, vivifying breath, in which all

things live, by which all things are invisibly surrounded, as the fish

by the Mâter, and man and all creatures by the clear, pure air.

Man as a boy, and as a beginning scholar, appears to perceive his

spiritual nature, and to anticii>ate God and the spiritual nature of all

things. He appears in effort and by effort to make the perception

more and more clear, and to confirm the anticipation.

Man as a boy faces the outer world, which in itself opposes him,

with the hope and faith that a similar spirit lives in it and over it as

lives in him and over him ; that it is penetrated by a similar spirit to

that which penetrates him;and he is drawn by an inward, irresistible

longing,— recurring with each new spring and autumn, with each new,

fresh morning and quiet evening, with each peaceful, festal day,— to

become conscious of this all-ruling spirit, and, as it were, to appro-

priate it.

The outer world apiêars to man in the stage of boyhood with a

twofold expression : first, conditioned by and proceeding from the

requirement and power of man ; or, secondly, conditioned by the

power working in Xature, and proceeding according to the require-

ments of this power.

Speech comes forth between this outer world of form and body



8G EDTJCATION OF MAN.

and the inner world of mind and spirit, originally appearing as one

with both, and by degrees indei)endently extricating itself from both,

but by so doing connecting both worlds.

Section 59.

So mind and outer world {Nature, here first of all), and the inter-

mediate which connects them, language, are the poles of boy-life, as

they were of the whole human race in the first stage of its maturity

(as the Sacred Books show). By these the school and the instruction

should lead the boy to a threefold but single recognition of himself

in all respects,

andthus to the recognition of man in general, accord-

ing to his nature and relations ; to the recognition of God, the eternal

condition, the eternal cause, and the eternal fount of his being and of

the being of all things ; to the recognition of Nature and the outer

world as proceeding from and limited by the spiritual.

The instruction and the school should lead man to a life and

course of conduct in accord with this threefold yet single recognition.

The school and the instruction should lead the boy by this threefold,

single recognition, from inclination to will, from activity of will to

firmness of will, and, thus constantly advancing, to the attainment

of his destiny, his vocation, to the attainment of his earthly per-

fection.

3. CONCERNING THE PRINCIPAL GROUPS OF

INSTRUCTION.

A. Concerning Religion and Religious Instruction.

Section 60.

Religion is the effort to raise to clear consciousness the anticipa-

tion that the individual, spiritual self which man perceives, the spirit

of man, was originally one with God, and is to be in the union with

God founded upon this consciousness, and to continue to live in this

union with God in every position and every relation of life, untroubledand unweakened. Religion is not a fixture, but a constantly advan-

cing effort, and just on that account has a constant existence.

Religious instruction is to animate, to confirm, to clear, the percep-

tion of a spiritual self, of the soul, of the spirit and mind as resting

in, limited by, and proceeding from, God; to make known the proper-

ties and nature of the soul, of the spirit and mind limited by God ; to




give ail insight into the necessary nature and workings of God ; to

give an insight into the rehitions of God to man as they are made

known in the individual mind and life of each person;in life as such,

and especially in the life and history of the development of humanity

which has been preserved in, and made known by, the Sacred Books

which have applied this knowledge to life as such, and especially to

the individual life of each person;which have applied it to the con-

tinuous development and improvement of humanity, to the representa-

tion of the divine in the human, and so to the recognition and

fulfilment of the duties of man ; that is, to what man has to foster in

accordance with his natui'e ; to present and demonstrate the means

and way ; to give sufficient aid to the effort to continue to live in true

union with God, or, if this effort be disturbed, to re-establish it.

Therefore religious instruction always presupposes religion, weak

though it be.

Eeligious instruction can be fruitful, influential in life, acting upon

it only in proportion as it finds true, though as yet formless, indefinite,

and unconscious religion in the mind of man.

If it were possible that a human being could be without religion,

it would also be impossible to bring religion to him.

This should be considered by the frivolous parents who let their

child grow up even to the school-stage without affording the slightest

nourishment to the religiousness of his mind.

Knowledge and insight into the nature of religion— simple though

it is, though it lies in the nature of man, and so is one with man—so rarely shows itself pure, and it is so hard for it to show itself pure,

because man, as at the same time corporeal and living in space, always

presupposes and underlays a separation of that which has been one;

but God and the spiritual, eternally self-disclosing, remain one and

undivided just because of spirituality, and because the conception of

union in itself, however dim it may be, always underlays the concep-

tion of union in space or time in the mind of man. But just as little

as a genuine oneness in the past presupposes a separation (as, indeed,

the former precludes the latter), just as little is the connection withspace and time required and conditioned by union, the one excluding

the other.

In the circle of experience and perception this fact is illustrated and

made clear by far more experiences than are needed;

for the idea,

the vivid, formed thought, which man puts into any outside work,

was du'ectly one with his being, and, indeed, bears within itself the




speaking personality and individuality of this man. This thought

belongs in this particular form to this man t)nly; and were it to

become conscious of itseK in the form given to it, could it return to

the totality of the thought of the man who has thought it, that is,

could it give an account of its relation to the totality of the thought

of this man, it would consciously further develop and continue to cul-

tivate this relation, and could consequently raise itself to an anticipa-

tion of the whole thought of this man : it would, indeed, even be able

to raise itself to at least a dim anticipation of the fundamental thought

of the man in whom it has arisen. For each man has actually but

onesingle thought of his own, especially and pre-eminently belonging

to him, which is, as it were, a fundamental thought of his whole being,

the keynote of the symphony of his life, which he strives to make

clear and represent through a thousand other thoughts, through all

his actions. And, nevertheless, the man has by no means in any

respect become less by the representation of this living, formed

thought, and by all the thoughts within him outwardly represented in

all shapes and forms. And although this thought now appears placed

outside of the man, yet the man whose thought it is will willingly and

always recognize it as his own, and work constantly for its improve-

ment and continued cultivation.

The thinker and the thought (if the latter were conscious of itself)

must both be always vividly penetrated by the fact of having formerly

been one; and nevertheless the thought is not the thinker himself,

although, according to its nature, one and single : such is the relation

of the human spirit to God.

A father has one or many sons. Each is an independent, conscious

being; but who can controvert or deny that not every son expresses in

individuality the nature of the father ?

Each son bears within himself the father's nature wholly, but in

individuality in a manner peculiar to himself, but in this case altered

by the life and being of the mother. Nevertheless, no division has

taken place in the father by this independent existence of the son

the fatherly spirit, the fatherly mind, the fatherly life, is not dividedor lessened by giving life and existence to the sons.

The son, and each of the sons, is, even in the smallest particular,

the father, only in new individuality: indeed, sons of one and the

same father, of the same parents, resemble each other in opinions,

speech, tone, and movements, so that one can be, in many respects,

put in the place of the other without taking into account the trifling



MAN AS A SCHOLAK. 89

new individuality. Nevertheless, no one of them is a part of the

others. Each is whole : no one is a special part of the father. As

they are whole and midivided, so also is the father whole and

nndivided.

If we would perceive the hnnian with human clearness, we would

thus anticipate, yes, know, the godlike.

Just as little, also, does union presuppose a connection with time,

space, or material. Cannot the thinking, feeling man be at one with

his friends and beloved ones, even act in union with them, although

separated from them by lands and seas ? Cannot and does not the

humanspirit feel in

union with men of whomit

has only heard, whomit never saw, and never will see ? Does it not act in union with such

men ? Cannot man feel in union with men who lived and worked

thousands of years before, or who may appear thousands of years later

as individual beings upon the earth ? Can he not act in union with

these ? What might be guiding and enlightening to man he spurns;

but for that reason, also, he so often gropes without guide or light

where he so often needs both, to go up or down and to wander in the

i:)rovince of the pin-ely spiritual, of that which is beyond time and

space, in the province of the divine.

It is and remains eternally true that in the pure and clear human

relations, especially in the parental and spiritual human relations, are

reflected the divine-human.

And through those pure relations of man to man we recognize

these relations of God to man and of man to God, we attain to seeing

and perceiving the latter.

Section 61.

If man consciously and clearly recognizes that his spiritual self

proceeded from God, wâs born in God and from God, was originally

one with God, and as a necessary consequence constantly depends on

God, is also in constant and uninterrupted, continuous communion

with God ; if he recognizes his welfare, his peace, his joy, his destiny,

his life, the genuine and only true life in itself, and the cause of his exis-

tence in this eternal, necessarily conditioned dependence of his perso-

nality upon God ; in the clearness of this recognition, in the vividness

and constancy of a mode of action in accordance with this recognition

and conviction, he thus recognizes himself as the child of God, if he

acts and lives in accordance with this recognition. This is the Chris-

tian religion, the religion of Jesus.




Therefore a pure, eartlily, human, childlike relation, thought, and

action is such as was told of Jesus ; he was subject unto his parents.

Therefore a genuine fatherly and motherly, parental relation,

thought, and action, w^hich honors, notices, and acknowledges in the

child the yet unrecognized and undeveloped divine, is such as was

said of ISlary ; — she pondered all these things in her heart.

Therefore pure, human, parental, and childlike relations are the

key to that heavenly, godlike, fatherly, and childlike relation and

life, to the representation of a genuine Christian life, thought, and

action.

Therefore the penetration of the purelyspkitual human,

ofJ:he

truly fatherly and childlike, of the genuine parental relations, is the

only key to the recognition, perception, and anticipation of the divine-

human relations,— the relation of God to man, of man to God.

Only in the measure that we are thoroughly penetrated by the

pure, spiritual, inward, human relations, and are faithful to them

even in the smallest detail in life, do we attain to the complete knowl-

edge and percex^tion of the divine-human relation ; only in that meas-

ure do we anticipate them so deeply, vividly, and truly, that every

yearning of our whole being is thereby satisfied, at least receives its

whole meaning, and is changed from a constantly unfulfilled yearnmg

to an immediately rewarded effort.

We do not yet know, we do not, indeed, as yet anticipate, what is,

notwithstanding, so near to us, what is one with our life, with our-

selves ; we are not even faithful to the recognition and anticipation

by word, on which we pride oui'selvas. This is daily evinced by our

behaAdor toward our parents, toward our children, our human educa-

tion. We wish to be God's children, and yet do not become, and

are not, sons of om* fathers, of our parents.

God must be our father ; and we are far from being the fathers of

our children. AVe wish to see into the divine;and we leave unnoticed

the human which leads us to the divine.

To see into, and to become and be penetrated by, the divine-

human relation, is the wide-reaching blessing which rests upon pure,

parental-childlike, and childlike-parental relations, and upon a life

faithful to their requirements.

We set outward bounds to the continually developing humanity

we enclose them in outward bounds, and believe we have already

reached these bounds in their earthly development. Humanity is to

US now dead, standing still, instead of living only in and by continual




development and cultivation, and not as it indeed is, an ever-renewed

shaping.

We do not know our oAvn nature and the nature of humanity, and

yet wish to know God and Jesus. We believe that we already know

our own nature and the nature of humanity fully : therefore we do

not know God and Jesus.

We separate God and man, man and Jesus, and yet wish to come

to God and Jesus. AVe do not know and do not see that every out-

ward separation conditions and presupposes an original inner union

and, miambiguously as this is conveyed to us by the word and concep-

tion of separation,

weyet overlook it.

The inward and individual relation of Jesus to God cannot be

humanly indicated more comprehensively, more truly and suitably,

than by the relation of the son to the father, — the highest and most

fei-vent relation which man can recognize, perceive, and anticipate,

but which is mostly viewed only outwardly, and not inwardly, spirit-

ually, penetratingly noticed in accordance with its nature. But the

child becomes a son, a genuine, real son, only when he develops the

nature of the father in himself, and brings himself to consciousness

and clear insight ; when he lets the opinions, nature, and efforts of

the father be the moving cause of all his thinking and acting, and

esteems conformity and likeness in behavior and action to the father,

whose high worth he recognizes, to be his most beautiful vocation, the

fount of the peace and joy of his life.

Such is the pure, genuine high, but truly human relation of the

son to the father, the relation of the true genuine son to the true

genuine father.

The word, the name of son, everywhere presupposes a conscious-

ness (where it is used in its whole significance), an already attained

consciousness, a sharing of the opinions and efforts of the father, a

complete, essential, inward, spiritual accord of son and father.

Of course, this relation takes place first of all with the oldest, the

first-born son, would naturally take place with him first. While all

his younger brothers are yet children, he is the only, the first-born

son.

Jesus is the only-begotten Son of God ; he is the beloved Son of

God; for he is the first among all the human and earth-born, among

all the heaven-born, who in his recognition and insight, in his think-

ing, his opinions, and his deeds, was deex:)ly and vividly penetrated by

his childlike relation to God, by God's fatherly relation to him

therefore is he the first-born of God, the first-born of all creation.




The oft-repeated saying of Jesus— Believe in me; if ye would

believe in me,— says therefore if you would anticipate, recognize, con-

ceive, and understand that the highest which man (as a divine being

who has made his appearance upon earth) can recognize, conceive,

and perceive,— his having proceeded from God, and so his constant

limitation by God, his dependence upon God,— is clearly and vividly

expressed in me, in my life, in my thoughts, in my oj)inions ; if you

would thus through me, through my life, my thoughts, my opinions,

my behavior, my deeds, and my words, come to the anticipation,

recognition, conception, and perception that each man is to raise

himself to this insight, to this consciousness (which cannot be more

highly, purely, and sufficingly designated than by the relation of

father and son), and is to live in accordance with it, you would also

raise yourselves to the true life, you would live as truly and eternally

as God and I myself live eternally, you would thus receive through

me the true eternal life, and 1 would give you the true eternal life.

To acknowledge this, and to apply it to the representation of a

pure, human life, is Christian religion.

Christian religion is the eternal conviction of the truth of what

Jesus said of himself, and a firm, endm'ing method of action faithful

to this conviction ; it is the conviction that the truth of the knowledge

expressed by Jesus comes to each man wherever he tm-ns with his

spiritual, seeking, testing, examining, questioning eyes ; that this one

truth, this one spirit, meets him everywhere, and that if man's spirit-

ual eye would see and recognize this one divine truth, this one divine

spirit everyv^'here in all manifoldness, he would then obtain from this

spirit the consolation and help which he would need in representing

this truth in a world where the cultivation of the inner, spiritual eye,

is still so far withdrawn from the cultivation of the outer, sentient

eye, the recognition and cultivation of the inner man from the knowl-

edge and cultivation of the outer, that he would then rise to the high-

est knowledge, not alone of man, but of all created beings ; that is,

of all beings who have proceeded from miity to individualities, to the

knowledge of the truth,

that the infinite is represented in the finite

the eternal in the temporal

the heavenly in the earthly

the living in the dead

the di\'^ne in man.




Christian religion is therefore the clear insight and conviction firmly

and eternally grounded in itself, and far removed from error; and a

life and mode of action in full accord and pure harmony with this con-

viction and knowledge that the revelation and manifestation of the

single eternal living being, God, must necessarily, just as a revelation,

be threefold ; that God makes himself known and declares himseK in

his unity as Creator, Preserver, Ruler, and Father of all things ; that

he makes himself known and declares himself, has made himself known

and declared himself, in and through a man who received his whole

nature into himself, in a single being of the highest comj^leteness and

perfection,

whowâs therefore his Son, his only-begotten and first-born

Son ; that God has made himself known and declared himself, and still

uninterruptedly makes himself known and declares himself, in all mani-

foldness, in all which apj)ears, in all which exists, in the workings, the

life, the spirit of all things, as the one only life and spirit, the spirit of

God, and this always as the single and living God.

In the same maimer we, humanly indeed, but with deep spiritual

significance, with exhaustive spiritual truth, say, the spirit of the

peace, of the order, and of the purity of this family, expresses itself

in each individual thing as well as in the whole house; so we cor-

rectly and with true anticipation say, the spirit of the father expresses

itself in all the children and in the whole family ; so we, with high

creative truth, say, the spii'it of the artist goes forth from all, as well

as from each of his works, and, with right sense and feeling of truth,

we say it expresses itself vividly from them.

The Christian religion brings with it the constant conviction that

it is this recognition of the threefold revelation of God which leads

not only men, but all creative beings (that is, beings who proceeded

from the existence of the unity of God, as existent individuals) to the

recognition of their existence, to the fulfilment of their vocation, to

the attainment of their destiny ; and also the conviction that each

individual, if he wishes to attain his destiny, must necessarily and

inalienably (faithful to his being) make himself known and declare

himself in constant, continuous manifoldness in this triune way, in

unity and as unity, in individuality and as individuality, in manifold-

ness and as manifoldness.

The truth of this conviction is the sole foundation of all insight

and knowledge. This truth, this conviction, is the true test of all

action. This truth is the foundation of all religious instruction. By

the recognition of, insight into, and application of, this truth, is Xatiu'e




truly recognized as that which it is, as the work and book of God, as

the revelation of God.

By the recognition of this truth, the natural as well as the human,

language, and all teaching and learning, all science and skill, receive

first their true significance, their true life. By this conviction life

first becomes a truly self-contained whole, a unity in itself, on all

sides, and in all directions, and in all its phenomena.

By this recognition and conviction, true genuine education of man

first becomes truly possible.

With the recognition of this truth, with insight into the nature of

this truth, come light and life, and,if

necessary, comfort,aid,

andhelp, in all circumstances; and thus life first receives significance

and aim.

Therefore Jesus commanded his disciples. Go ye into all the world,

and teach all nations;glorify and consecrate them to the recognition

of God the Father, of Jesus the Son of God, and of the holy spirit of

God ; to a life suited to this recognition and insight, and to all insight

necessarily proceeding therefrom.

Therefore the truth of this threefold revelation and manifestation

of the one God is the foundation and corner-stone of the religion

sufficing for all men under all zones, which they, though dimly, antici-

pate ; for which they yearn, although unconsciously, for it leads men

in spirit and in truth, in insight and life, back to God.

Each man as proceeding from God, existing through God, and

living in God, is to raise himself to the religion of Jesus, to the Christ-

like religion ; therefore the school must, first of all, teach Christian

religion ; therefore it must, first of all and above all, give instruction

in Christian religion ; everywhere and under all zones the school must

instruct for and in this religion.

B. Concerning Physics and Mathematics.

Section 62.

What religion says and expresses, Nature says and represents.

What the contemplation of God teaches, Nature confirms. What pro-

ceeds from the contemplation of the inner, the contemplation of the

outer makes known ; for Nature, as well as all that exists, is the decla-

ration and revelation of God. Every thing that exists has its founda-

tion in the revealing of God. Every thing that exists has its founda-

tion and existence only through the life abiding in God.




Each thiiig is divine nature, divine being ; each thing is therefore

again, relatively speaking, a unity, as God is unity itself ; each thing,

therefore, because it is always a unity (though only relatively), also

makes known its being in a threefold way by a threefold representa-

tion and revelation of itself, and so only in and by constantly pro-

gressing, therefore relatively all-sided development. This truth is the

foundation of all contemplation and knowledge of Nature and of all

insight into Nature. Without it, no genuine, true, fruitful investiga-

tion and knowledge of Nature takes place. Without it, no true con-

templation of Nature, leading to insight into the essence of Nature, is

possible.It is possible for the Christian only, for the man with Christian

thought, life, and effort, to come to a true conception and vivid recog-

nition of Nature ; only such a man can be a genuine naturalist. It is

possible for man to approach to a true knowledge of Nature only when

he is consciously or unconsciously, dimly or clearly, a Christian ; that

is, when he is penetrated by the truth of the one living power of God

working in all things ; when he is filled with the one living spirit of

God, which is in all things, and to which he is himself subjected,

through which all Nature has its being and existence, and through

which he is in a condition to perceive this one spirit in its being and

its unity, in the smallest phenomenon, and in the sum of all the phe-

nomena of Nature.

Section 63.

The relation of Nature to God can be truly and clearly perceived

and recognized by man through his perception of and making clear

the inner and innermost spiritual relation of the genuine work of

human art to the artist who has produced it. This relation can be

secondarily perceived and recognized with each work of man in refer-

ence to the man to whom it owes its origin.

On aU which the spirit and the life creates, produces, and repre-

sents, the spirit and the life must impress, implant, its nature ; spirit

and life must impress its seal on all parts of what is represented.

Absolutely nothing can appear, nothing visible and perceptible

can be produced, which does not bear within it the life and spirit, the

imprint of the spirit and life, of the being by whom it has been pro-

duced, to whom it owes its existence. And this holds good in respect

to the work of each man, from the highest artist to the most ordinary

laborer, from the most visible to the most spiritual and most elevated




works of man, from the most abiding to the most transient activity

of man : so is it also with the works of God, Nature, the creation, all

that is.

The piercing, accurate glance can recognize in the work of art the

capacities and laws of thought, and of perception of man in genera],

as well as the degree of cultivation in thought, and perception in the

individual creating man : so can the creating spirit of God be evolved

from his works, and conceived of by observation of his wôrks.

We do not notice this sufficiently with the works of man, with

works of art ; therefore is it so difficult for us to recognize it in respect

to Nature,the

workof

God. Wedo not sufficiently lay the founda-

tion of the innermost spiritual relation of the artist to his work in

contemplating works of art ; we look upon their origin too mechani-

cally, too outwardly ; whereas they, if they are to be higli works of

art, not hollow masks of art, are always a representation of the

most individual, most inner life of the artist ; but for that reason, the

genuine spirit of the work of art, like the spirit of Nature, remains

distant from us, foreign and dead to us. As, now, the work of the

artist bears within it, and humanly but exhaustively, sensibly, and

significantly speaking, breathes out his spirit and character, his life

and existence, and the man who produced it remains, notwithstanding,

the same unweakened and unseparated being, his power indeed even

heightened, so also the spirit and being of God — although it is the

cause and the fount of all that exists, and although all that exists

bears within it this one spirit of God, breathes out tliis spirit that

it may extend itself— remains in itseK the One Being, the One Spirit,

unweakened and undivided.

As no material part of the human spirit, of the artist, is in the

work of art, and yet the work of art bears within it the whole spirit

of its artist, so that he lives in it, expresses himself by it ; and as the

work breathes forth again his spirit, even to others ; is awakened,

developed, improved, and formed by his spirit; as thus the man's

spirit is related to the work produced by him, as the man as a spirit

is related to that he has produced— so is the spirit of God related to

Nature and to all created things. The spirit of God rests, lives, and

works in Nature, expresses itself by Nature, imparts itself through

Nature, continues to shape itself in and by Nature ; but Nature is

not the body of God.

The spirit of the work of art, the spirit to which the work of art

owes its existence, is the one undivided spirit of the artist; but it



MAK AS A SCHOLAB. 97

now continues to live and work (having, as it were, gone out from the

artist) independently, and yet still with the artist's own spirit in his

work of art : so the spirit of God, having proceeded from God, lives

independently, and yet with God's own spirit, in Nature, and works

on and by Nature.

As Nature is not the body of God, God himself does not dwell in

Nature as in a house ; but the spirit of God dwells in Nature, to pro-

duce, protect, foster, and develop Nature. For does not even the

spirit of the artist, though only a human spirit, dwell in his work,

produce, protect, foster, and guard it? Has not the spu'it of the

artist given earthly immortality to a block of stone, to an easily-

perishable piece of linen, even to a winged and fleeting word, which

passes away as soon as uttered, and to all his works, whether the

artist be a musician, or an artist in words, drawing, or solids ? Plas

he not given to the work of art expressed by himseK the most choice,

careful fostering, the most tender protecting, the high esteem of the

noblest human spirits as a life-dowery ?

What man does not understand the lofty, powerful spirit of a

pure, human work of art, that, like the pure glance of the helpless

child, at once supplicates and commands? And yet it is the work of

a human spirit, and this spirit protects and fosters it still, however

long may be the time, and wide the space, which separates it from the

artist.

Toward a genuine work of art created by the spirit of the artist

— not of course toward the mechanical work, of which the maker

thought little or nothing— this artist feels just like a father who lets

his beloved son go away from him ; he sends this son on his way with

his blessing, care, and protection.

It is by no means a matter of indifference to the genuine artist

who buys his work of art, as it is by no means a matter of indiffer-

ence to a good father what society his son frequents ;but yet he

trustingly and confidingly lets his son go into the world ; for his

spirit and striving and thought rest on and in the son, as the charac-

ter of the artist lives and breathes wholly in his work, in the smallest,

most delicate parts, in each line, even in each way of connecting the

lines; and the artist hopes that this spirit and character, M^hich lie

knows to be in accordance with his high being and striving, will

protect his work, will bring it to men who will receive the formed

spirit into their own lives, and let it work in them and mould them.

The work of art is external to the man ; no material part, no




drops of life-blood, j)ass from the man into his work, and yet the man

preserves, supports, fosters, and protects it ; he now removes from it,

and seeks for the futmê to remove from it, whatever may do it the

slightest injury. Man is, and feels himself, one with his work of art

how much more must God support and foster his work, Xature, and

remove from it whatever will do it the slightest injury ! for God is

God, and man is only man. Nevertheless the artist also, in what-

ever department of art he may be, remains always independently and

unchangeably the same in himself, is submersed in all his works ; so

also God remains unchangeably the same,—he also might be sub-

mersed in Nature.

Indeed the work of art, the work of man, can, like Nature, the

work of God, be outwardly submersed, and yet the spirit expressed in

and demonstrated by it, living and working in it, may still continue to

exist and unfold itself yet more. - Indeed it now forms itself for the

first time with freedom, and reveals itself clearly and vividly.

Each individual who works for his own aim, at whatever stage of

insight it may be, understands, or should understand, the submersed

power in the ruins of human art, whether it be the powerful work of

individuals of gigantic power, or the colossal work of the scarcely yet

conjectured, much less credited immense power of the many, most

intimately connected for one common aim.

Those ruins speak admonishingly to the weaker generations that

follow ; and the generation that begins to be conscious of its own exist-

ence raises itself, trusting in and encouraged by these signs of van-

ished though by no means only external human power and human

greatness. So the colossal remains of fallen moimtains and chains of

mountains testify to the greatness of God ; and man also, encouraged

by them, feeling like spirit and like power in himself, raises himself

as the weak i\'y climbs the mighty rock, and absorbs from it strength

and nourishment, not only for its continued existence, but also for its

higher climbing.

So the similar living and deep inner and spiritual references of man

to the work of art, and of God to Nature, are everywhere continuingand pervading.

If barbarians— rough, unfeeling, thoughtless men— destroy the

work of art, destroy even the trace of a human spirit's having wandered,

worked, and created, the noble, the human-feeling man sorrows almost

more than if the life of an ordinary living being had been destroyed.

But does not even the human work also bear with it independent,

continuous cultivation of the inlying spirit and thought ?




Cannot the expression of character of a work of art act upon

whole generations, elevate them or ennoble them ?

And yet this is effected by merely human art work ; and now what

can, will, and must the works of God do ? What must Nature, the

work of God, be to man ? We are very zealous to learn to know the

life and strivings, etc., of human works ; we study human works and

rightly. The undeveloped maturing man must grow by the develop-

ment of matured man ; how much more shall we now exert om'selves

to learn to recognize God's work, Nature, and to learn to know the

objects of Nature, according to their life, their significance, and thus

to learn to

knowthe spirit of

GodAnd to this we should feel ourselves already drawn, already called

by the fact that genuine human works of art by which the pure spirit

of man, the spirit of God, is clearly expressed, are not easily to be

obtained by every one, and in every relation of life, and at every

instant; while man finds himself everywhere surrounded by pure

works of God, by works of Nature from which the pure spirit of God

clearly speaks.

We can, it is true, also find and recognize the spirit of God by

and in the spirits of men, but it is difficult in each individual case to

distinguish the general human form from the particular human ; it is

difficult to distinguish which of the two preponderates here, and which,

at any particular time, is actually working. Yet here, with the pure

works of Nature, the purely natural by far preponderates ; the particu-

lar natural being retreats before the general. And so God's pure

spirit not only comes forth more purely and clearly in Nature than in

human life, but man sees in this spirit of God clearly expressing itself

in Nature, the nature, the dignity, and elevation of man mirrored in

their complete clearness, purity, and originality.

But man by no means looks into Nature only in general (as has

ah-eady been indicated), but he even looks into it as into a perceptible

but living work, expressing not the conception, but the thing, the

relation itself. He sees in Nature, as in a picture, his nature, his voca-

tion, his destiny, the necessary limitations and necessary phenomenaof the impeded and of the completed attainment of his vocation and

destiny ; so that man, following these quiet, sure, certain, clear, and

impersonal teachings of Nature, will not only surely recognize by

them what is to be done in each instant of life, but, acting in accord-

ance with these teachings, will certainly satisfy all demands upon him.

Among all the objects of Nature none appear in respect to such




teachings more true and clear, more complete and yet more simple,

than the vegetable growth, the plants, and especially the trees, on

account of their quiet thoughtfulness and the clear demonstration of

their inner life. Thus the trees may be rightly termed natural objects

for the knowledge of good and evil, since they actually are so, as they

were thought and called with such comprehensive truth, with such

depth and significance, even at the first appearance of the acquired

consciousness of the human race. And not only the phenomena of

individual human life can be perceived in- the tree-world, but also

the indispensable phenomena of human development can be per-

ceived (since the contemplation of self-development and individual

development, and the comparison of these with the general develop-

ment of the human race, shows that, in the development of the inner

life of the individual man, the spiritual development of the history of

the human race repeatedly expresses itself; and the whole human

race can be looked upon in its totality as one man, in whom the

necessary stages of development of the individual man can be dem-

onstrated) ; but these phenomena are scarcely yet anticipated, much

less clearly demonstrated with true precision, remote from all arbitra-

riness and superficiality;yet the parables of Jesus, if carried out and

carried on, might lead to this clear demonstration.

A much wdder ai^plication might be given to this perception and

contemplation of Nature, which is here only touched upon, if it were

not inadndssible on account of general complete ignorance of the

subject, and if it were not founded upon an observation of the out-

ward phenomena of Xature and upon an observation of the inner

developments of one's own life which are now very rarely found.

If we seek for the inner foundation of this high symbolical mean-

ing of the different individual phenomena of Nature, especially in the

stages of development of the objects of Nature and their phenomena

in reference to man, to his stages of development, and the phenomena

of those stages, we shall clearly perceive that it (the meaning) has its

firm and sure foundation simply in the fact that Nature and man have

their foundation in one andthe

sameeternal, single Being, and that

their development takes place according to similar laws, only in dif-

fering stages.

So, now, the contemplation of Nature and man in comparison and

combination wîth the facts and phenomena of the general develop-

ment of humanity reciprocally explain each other, and each leads to

the deeper knowledge of the other.



MAl^ AS A SCHOLAR.~

lOl

By clear insight into the limiting, creating relation of the spirit of

man to his outer work, man comes also to a clear insight and percep-

tion of the relation of the limiting, creating spirit of God to his work,

to Xature ; he also comes to the recognition of the way and manner in

which the finite proceeds from the infinite, the corporeal from the

spi]-itual, Nature from God : for even man also, though in appearance

a finite being, does not always need outward-forming members (arms

and hands) to bring forth his work, and present it outwardly; but

even his will, his determining glance, his breathed-out word, forms,

creates, and develops. Man also, although a finite being, can, without

material, bring forth material to form.

Whoever still lacks a proof of this need only go through the whole

series of stages of development, limitations, and phenomena, from the

most incorporeal, inward thought, to the most formed, most material

word, even to writing. Therefore man, in his own thinking, can

recognize and perceive, not as a conception, but through the pure fact

itself, even that which is most difficult to perceive (the fact that the

outward, the corporeal, has proceeded from the innermost, the most

spiritual) as the effect and result of his most individual, innermost

thinking, coming out into an outward work.

Therefore as the spirit of the artist is in the work of art, as the

spirit of the man is in the work of man, so is the spirit of God in

Nature. As the work of art lives and moves in itself in accordance

with its spirit and in reference -to its creator, so Nature (which is born

of God) lives and moves in itself in accordance with its spirit, in

reference to God its Creator, and in inner spiritual reference to man

as a work of God, living in and through God, and radiating the spirit

of God.

As in the world of art the spirit of man appears and expresses

itself invisibly yet visibly, and as the world of art is thus invisibly

yet visibly a spiritual kingdom, so the spirit of God appears invisibly

yet visibly in Nature, and Nature is thus invisibly yet visibly the

kingdom of God.

Section 64.

To anticipate, to acknowledge that the kingdom of God is thus

threefold (the visible, the invisible, and that which is invisible yet

visible), and to let it influence our life, alone give us the peace which

we from the first feeling of our selfhood seek within and without, and

to which we are attracted even to the detriment of our own life, to the




loss of our outward XDOssessions, of our out^yard liappiness, whatever

it may be.

Therefore man, especially in boyhood, should be made thoroughly

intimate with Nature ; not according to its peculiarities, to the form

of its jDhenomena, but to the spirit of God abiding in it as it lives and

moves in and over Nature.

This the boy also deeply feels and requires; for tnis reason

nothing so firmly connects teacher and scholar with yet uncorrupted

sense of Nature, as the common effort to employ themselves with

Nature, with the objects of Nature.

This should be considered by parents as well as byteachers of

schools ; for this reason the latter should, at least once a week, go into

the open air with each division of their school, not driving them out

as a shepherd his sheep, nor leading them out like a company of sol-

diers, both of which we have seen ; but the teacher should go with

them like a father among -his sons, a brother among his brothers,

and bring them to a nearer perception and conception of that which

Nature or the season brings before them.

School-teachers living in village or country must not reply to this,

" My school-children are out all day thus ; they run about out-doors."

Yes, they run about out-doors ; but they do not live out-doors ; they

do not live in and with Nature.

Not only children and boys, but many adults, are, in regard to

Nature and its essence, as the common- man is to the air ; he lives in

it, and yet scarcely knows it as something individual, still less accord-

ing to its necessary property of maintaining bodily life ;for what in

common parlance is called air are either the streams of air or the

degrees of the warmth of the air.

Therefore, even those children and boys who are always running

about in the open air, perceive, divine, and experience nothing of the

beauties of Nature and of their effect on the human mind ; it is with

them as with those who live in and have grown up in a very beautiful

country, who divine nothing of its beauty and its spirit.

Yet— and this is the most essential— the boy divines, finds, and,

with his own inner spiritual life, looks into the inner life of surround-

ing Nature : but in and with the adult, the like does not come to him;

that germinating inner life is checked and stifled even at its beginning.

Tlie boy requires from the adult the confirmation of his own inner

spiritual perceptions, and rightly from his conjecture of what his

elder should be,from his respect for his elders.



MAN AS A SCHOLAE. 103

But if lie does not find this confirmation, there is a twofold result,

— disrespect for his elder, and (in himself) withdrawal of the original

inner conception and perception. Hence the importance of the wan-

dering of boys and adults in common efforts to take into themselves

the life and spirit of ^N'atm-e, to let this life and spirit live and work

within them, which would soon put an end to the idle, fruitless run-

ning about of so many boys.

The tormenting, in the manner of treating animals and insects,

which we find especially in young boys who are very good-hearted

and well-meaning (not the tormenting as such), has its foundation in

the efforts of the little boy to obtain an insight intothe inner

lifeof

the animal, to appropriate to himself its spirit.

But non-explanation, want of guidance, misconstruction, mistak-

ing, and misguidance of this impulse can later make such boys into

actual, hardened tormentors of animals.

Section 65.

So the being and effect of Xature in its wholeness, appeared and

appears to the inner contemplation as a representation by God, and of

God ; as a word of God, expressing, communicating, and awakening

the spirit of God in and by its totality. Yet it represents itself other-

wise to the customary outward contemplation. Here it appears as a

manifoldness amongst and in different and separate individualities,

without definite, inner, living coherence; as individualities, each of

which has its particular form, its particular course of development, its

particular destination and aim ; without expressing that all these out-

wardly different and separate individualities are organic, connected

members of a great, living organism of Nature, of a great, inward,

cohering whole of Nature ; without expressing that Nature is such a

whole.

Section 66.

This outward view of Nature, resting upon the individualities of

the phenomena of Nature, upon the individual objects of Nature as

different and separate, resembles the view of a great tree from with-

out, where each leaf appears strictly separate and different from the

others,— where, therefore, no inner bond goes from leaf to leaf, from

twig to twig, within the little flower from calyx to petal, and from

this to stamen and pistil ; but finally—when thoughtfully striving and

looking with the inner eye for the nearest individualities, the nearest




connecting link is sought and found, and so rising from each common

unity to the next higher, and thus at last to the highest— shows itself

as an outward phenomenon in the most deeply-hidden heart-point, and

in the law which works therein.

That outward contemplation of Nature in its individuality resem-

bles the outward view of the starry heavens, which only combines the

isolated stars into great constellations by arbitrarily drawn lines, but

the clearest, sharpest, and most developed spiritual eye can alone divine

the inner connection of the stars,— such an eye only can perceive this

connection in the union of smaller world-wholes to greater ones.

In this

commonand merely outward contemplation of Ifature, the

individualities of the different and various objects of iSTature appear

not so much as the production of One Being and Essence, as the

result of different acting powers. Yet this view cannot suffice to the

one and individual spirit of man, even in boyhood.

Section 67.

Therefore the man while still a boy seeks for this unity and union

in this outwardly separate and various manifoldness and individu-

ality;he seeks for unity and union in a separation (proceeding from

an inner necessarily developing law) of what to the outward view

seemed disordered heaps grouped together. He is in boyhood satis-

fied in his mind when he can conjecture this unity and union ; but

he is first satisfied in spirit at a later period, when he finds them.

But man is led by faithfully tracing out this manifoldness of

Nature to the knowledge of the outer unity of the manifoldnesses

and individualities of Nature, as the mentally tracing back the mani-

foldnesses and individualities of a plant leads to the recognition of a

deep-lying law which can be only spiritually discerned; for— with

all the peculiarity, individuality, and separateness of the objects of

Nature— the peculiar nature and the peculiar appearance, form, and

figure of each thing recur always to the nature of the power as the

ultimate, inner cause, as the connecting unity from which all mani-foldness and individuality act, and from which they proceed and on

which they depend. But power ^ is according to its inner nature

only conditioned in its own existence, proceeding from the existence

through the wôrking as the outward appearance. Therefore power

when appearing is the ultimate cause of each phenomenon in Nature.

1 Translator's Note. Or force.




From the contemplation of the nature of the power, as it has

taught ns to know it as a divine power, and as it also 'proves itself

to us in our own inner nature, inind, and life, Nature can also be per-

ceived, recognized, seen into, according to its form and the numberless

forms and figures in which it appears ;Nature also can be penetrated

and seen into according to its living, inner, reciprocal references and

degrees, as well as recognized according to its outward circumstances

and its derivations. i\Ian is led to contemplate Natm-e by the keen

desire, hope, and anticipation of finding, through the knowledge of

Nature, the outer unity of the individualities of Nature, that is, of

the different natural forms and figures.

Section 68.

But power in itself is a self-active, all-sided influence, having the

same action either upon unity in itself or upon a relative unity, but

always upon a unity ; and, at the same time with the existence of the

power, the co-existence of its outward and backward striving is neces-

sarily given and conditioned.

All individuality and manifoldness as such show, however, besides

the power, a second necessary outward limitation of the form and

figure, viz., the material. They show that each earthly natural for-

mation and form is born from the material which is fully adequate,

which on every side bears similar relations of cohei'ence and consist-

ence, and which js therefore in appearance extremely movable. All

earthly forms are born of this material through the power everywhere

synnnetrically dwelling within it, each part of which power resembles

every other, and through and under the outward influence of the sun,

of the light and warmth, in accordance with the jDervading great law

of Nature— that the general calls into existence the particular.

All individuality- and manifoldness of the forms of Nature, every

inner perception of Nature, shows that material and power are insepa-

rably one.

Material and the spontaneous power which, proceeding from onepoint, acts equally on all sides, reciprocally condition each other

neither exists nor can exist without the other, indeed, strictly speak-

ing one cannot even be thought of without the other.

The cause of the easy movability of the material is the original

spherical tendency of the indwelling power, the original tendency of

the power to develop and represent itself, spontaneously proceeding

from one point and with like action on all sides.



106 EDUCATION OF IVIAK.

Section 69.

Xow the power develops and represents itself in all directions in

an all-sided, free, and unimpeded manner : therefore the appearance

in space, the incorporate result of it, is a sphere. And so the spheri-

cal, or, in general, the corporeal round form appears pervadingly to be

most commonly the first as ^ve]l as the last natural form;such as the

great heavenly bodies, suns, planets, moons ; such as water and all

fluid bodies, air and all gaseous forms, and the dust (the earthy in

its finest pulverized form), each in its individuality.

Withall the manifoldness, and with the apparently incompatible

difference of the forms of Xature, the spherical form appears to be

the original form, the unity of all the natural forms. Therefore even

the extensive corporeal sphere is like none of the other forms of

Nature, and yet bears wdthin itself the nature, the limitation, and law

of all. It is the formless, but, at the same time, the most formed.

Xo j)oint, no line, no plane, no side, is predominant in the sphere

and yet it is made up of points on all sides ; it bears within it all

points, lines, etc. ; it bears within it not only the condition, but even

tlie actuality, of all earthly forms.

Therefore each and every formation of the working, living, and

active objects of Nature, has its foundation in the law of the

spherical ; each, considered as a result of power, and proceeding from

the consijderation of the nature of the power, has its foundation in the

tendency, necessarily existing in the nature of the power as such, to

demonstrate by material the spherical nature of the power in every

possible peculiar way, in all possible forms, ramifications, and con-

nections.

For in and with the spontaneous working of the power, which

has similar action on all sides, is at the same time given within the

different sides and directions (as a phenomenon of Nature, and so

connected w-ith the material) an inward fluctuating and imdulating

weighing and measuring tendency, different quantity of the working

of the power, and different tension of the power on different sides andin different directions.

This differing relation of the quantity and strength of the work-

ing of the power on different sides, which exists at the same time with

the power, and consequently also with the material, and necessarily

existing in the nature of the power as a phenomenon ; this precise,

predominating action of the power in definite directions ; this definite,




peculiar relation in the diiferent directions of the power among them-

selves and to one another ; this different tension of the power in differ-

ent directions, and the Aârious symmetrical separation of the material

rendered necessary, and at the same time conditioned thereby,

must, as tlie principal property of the whole mass of the material,

indwell in equal measure in each, even in the smallest point of this

material.

This peculiar relation and inner law of the wôrking power is in

each particular case the essential cause of the precise form and figure.

The fundamental law of all forms and figures lies in this various

relation of direction and quantity of the working of the powers, in this

various tension, and in the consequent easy separability of the material

in these planes and directions of tension.

The possibility of recognizing these forms and figures with respect

to their nature, relations, and coherence, lies in the clear perception

of this law.

But since, now, each thing makes itself completely known only

when it represents its nature in unity, individuality, and manifold-

ness, and so in and by the necessary triune way; so, also, the nature

of the powder makes itself fully and completely known only in such a

triune representation of its nature by and in formation, in which the

two other tendencies of Nature (to represent the particular by means

of the general, and the general by means of the particular ; and to

make the internal external, and the external internal ; and to repre-

sent unity for both, and both in unity) are at the same time

conditioned, and from which they proceed as a necessary continued

development.

In this triune representation of the nature of the power in union

with those general tendencies of Nature by material and in formation,

each individual form of Nature, and thus the manifoldness of Nature,

has its foundation.

Section 70.

But one and the same power works in one and the same material,either dismembering in many single phenomena, or it works generally

undivided ; or it works within its law of formation either predomi-

nantly toward one or the other relations of extension of height,

length, and breadth, and thus conditions various appearances of the

fixed (the crystalline) forms, — such as the fibrous, the radiate, the

granulous, the leafy, the laminated, as well as the membraneous, and




needle-formed, etc., formations. The former is caused by the fact

that so many individual points of the material strive to represent

their law of formation as is only possible within a relatively large

mass, but by their mass itself reciprocally hinder the formation and

perfection of their crystals. The second is caused by the fact that

the law of formation strives to represent itself prevailingly and pre-

dominantly in one or several common relations of extension.

A pure and complete crystal, which represents also outMardly the

relations of quantity of its inner direction of power by its figure, is

formed when all the different parts of the material and all the indi-

vidual points of the acting power which has appeared, or is appearing,

subject themselves to the higher law of a connnon requirement and

collective representation of the law of formation, which indeed limits

and chains the individual portions, but gives the greater completely-

formed result.

The crystalline is the first appearance of earthly formation.

Through the outward and backward tendencies which arise at the

same time with the existence of the power, and by the co-existence of

the two, a tendency toward the predominance of power toward some side

or sides of the direction of power and a reciprocal obstructing, press-

ing and chaining is conditioned, and consequently also the finest rela-

tions of tension of the material on all sides and in all directions, which

causes greater or less separability in these lines and planes of tension.

Therefore the first solids must necessarily be bounded by straight

lines ; indeed the resistance to the common subordination to the defi-

nite law of a precise solid, to the complete representation of such a

solid, must show itself in the first appearance of the solid.

Also solids with unequally acting directions of power will appear

earlier than those with equally acting directions, and so the outward

manifestation of power will not be a solid all sides of which are alike

(the which lay in the nature of the power), but rather, connected with

the solid, forms which have not in common with it the like action on

all sides which lies in the nature of the power.

The development of the nature of the power will also rise in thephenomenon of the fixed form, from the unlike-sided to the simplest

like-sided solid, as the nature of the power to represent itself outwardly

descends from unity and all-sidedness to individuality and one-sided-

ness.

If we now seek to recognize and represent this descent from unity

to individuality lying in the nature of the power, we shall view Nature




at this stage with respect to its inner tendency as well as its outer

appearance, we shall view it in all its individuality and one-sidedness,

but also in its unity and all-sidedness.

Section 71.

In the whole natural course of the development of the solid as it

goes forth from the objects of Nature, there is a very remarkable

accordance with the development of the spirit and mind of man. ]\Ian,

also, like the solid, while vividly bearing unity within himself, shows

at first more one-sidedness, individuality, and incompleteness, and not

until a later stageof existence does he rise to and attain like-sided-

ness, harmony, and completeness in outward appearance.

This phenomenon of the parallel in the course of the development

of Nature and of man is, as well as every phenomenon of this kind,

highly important for self-knowledge, for the education of one's self

and others ; for from it light and clearness spread over the develop-

ment and education of man, and give security and firmness of action

in the individual requirements of this development and education.

Also the world of the solid is, like the world of the mind and spirit,

a glorious, instructive world. ^Yhat here the inner eye sees within,

the inner eye there views outwardly.

Section 72.

All power which makes itself known in the greatest generality by

formation and expression works out from a middle with an outward

and backwardtendency at the same time, and thus, setting its own

limits, works in an all-sided, like-sided, or radiating, linear and conse-

quently spherical direction. But the necessary appearance of the

power which, unobstructed, makes itself outwardly known in all-sided,

like-sided formation, is that the power always works toward two sides

in the like direction, and that, within the totality of all directions of

power, each three such directions proceeding from the centre on two

sides always stand in equal inclination and declination toward one

another, bearing thus such a relation to one another that self-depend-

ence and mutual dependence are in equilibrium. Yet on account of

the measuring nature of the power within the sum of the three rect-

angular dual directions, three exclusively come out as predominant

and quite independent of all others, and this must take place also in

the most spiritual view of power, because it is conditioned alike in the

nature of power and in the law of activity in the human mind.




The effect of the predominance of these three times two rectangular

directions which symmetrically subordinate and determine all other

directions can be only a solid bounded by straight lines and straight

surfaces,— a solid which in all its phenomena, parts, and expressions

makes outwardly known in manifold, peculiar ways the inner nature

and effect of the power, conformably to the great law of ISTature, and

the precise vocation and destination, the precise aim of Nature. Such

a solid can be only a cube, a pure hexahedron.

Each corner shows the rectangular position of the three dual direc-

tions wîthin, and thus shows outwardly the middle point of the whole,

and this is shown eight times by the eight corners ofthe cube.

Eachfour corners together show this law quadrupled. In the same manner

the three times four edges show each of the inner dual directions quad-

rupled. The six surfaces show in their centres, invisibly yet visibly,

the six ends of the three dual directions, and so, in like manner limited

and determined thereby, they show the invisible middle point of the

wdiole solid, etc.

But now in this solid, the cube, the effort of the powder toward

spherical representation, appears at its greatest strain ; instead of all-

sidedness appears single-sidedness ; instead of presenting all points or

all corners, the cube presents individual corners ; instead of all lines,

all edges, it presents individual edges; and these few points, lines,

and surfaces hold all the rest subordinate to and dependent on them.

But by means of these points, etc., there becomes clear and outwardly

perceptible the tendency already conceivable from the nature of the

power, and necessarily leading back to it, not only to represent itself

as a body occupying space, but in each of the most peculiar forms

possible to it, therefore also as a point and in points, as a line and

in lines, as a surface and in surface. But consequently and neces-

sarily there is at the same time given the tendency of the power to

develop the line and surface from the point, to represent the point

as line and surface, the line as point and surface, to draw the lines

together as it were to points, and to unfold them to surfaces in like

manner, and to draw together the surfaces to lines and points, or to

represent them as such.

This occupation, this activity, and this effect of the power, appears

from this point on, in every, even the smallest, advance in the contem-

plation of the solid, so that the efficiency of the power within the

sphere of the formation of solids appears to consist only therein ; and

all solids, whatever they may be, appear to owe their existence only

to this exclusive tendency.



MAN AS A SCHOLAR. Ill

But so it must be. This is the first general presentation of the

great laws and tendencies of Nature, viz., to represent each thing as

unity, individuality, and manifoldness ; to generalize the most par-

ticular, and to represent the most general in the most particular ; and,

finally, to make the internal external, the external internal, and to

represent both in accord and union.

If, now, we never forget, or rather if we have ever kept before our

eyes, the fact that man also is wholly subject to these great laws, and

that almost all the phenomena of his life, even his adventures, etc.,

have their cause in these laws, we shall through these views recognize

Nature and man at the same time, and learn to developand educate

man in a way which is faithful and conformable to Nature and to his

nature at the same time.

Let us now quietly advance, step by step, from the contemplation

of the cube to the contemplation of all the remaining solids, and to

their derivation.

The points and corners of the cube will strive to form themselves

into surfaces, and represent themselves as such ; the surfaces to repre-

sent themselves as points; the six dual middle directions (invisibly

resting in the cube, and invisible yet visible in each of its sides), w^hich

are at the same time required and limited by the predominance of the

three equivalent dual directions, will especially strive to become out-

wardly visible, and thus to come out as edges, etc.

The result of this is a solid with the like cubical law, which has as

many surfaces or sides as the cube has points or corners ; which has

as many points or corners as the cube has sides, and just as many

edges as the cube, but in the middle directions : the result is a piu-e

octahedron.

In this solid again appea*; several things outwardly either merely

visible, or invisible yet visible, which remain invisible in the interior

of the solid ; but yom- own perceptions must find these by the indica-

tions given with the cube.

Each of the three times two principal directions of the power

comes out externally in the cube as three times two sides or sm-faces;

in the octahedron, as three times two corners or points ; another solid

must now necessarily be given in which they appear as three times

two edges or lines. In the cube the six ends of the three dual direc-

tions of the power appear as six sides or surfaces; in the octahedron

they appear as corners or points ; there must now necessarily be given

another solid in which they must appear as edges or lines, and this is




the pure tetrahedron. Its nature is ah'eady sufficient!}^ defined by its

grouping and comparison with the cube and the octahedron ; and the

interior, which it expresses by its exterior, is easy to find out by the

guidance of the cube.

So from the contemplation and perception of the necessary effects

and products of the spherically acting power, which makes itself

known by formation of the material, have proceeded three solids,

bounded by straight lines and straight surfaces, of which the cube is

the first, and, as it were, the middle ; the tetrahedron and octahedron

are the second, and, as it were, in one respect, the side or adjacent

bodies.If we now look over

Cube

Octahedron and Tetrahedron

in their natural position, which necessarily proceeds from their deri-

vation, so is shown again, in complete accord with the course of

contemplation up to this point, and as a necessary result of the repeat-

edly-expressed laws of Nature, that the cube rests on a surface, the

octahedron on a point, and the tetrahedron on a line ; and with each

of the three solids the axis of the formation necessarily coincides with

one of the three principal directions.

These three solids, now considered as completely self-contained,

independent bodies, and each seeking in itself the point of rest and

support, left to themselves as bodies, show the cube always symmetri-

cal, constantly resting on one of its surfaces, which becomes its base

and the axis constantly coinciding with one of its fundamental direc-

tions. The octahedron and the tetrahedron, on the contrary, will fall.

Thus each one of their sides will become a base, and, at the same

time with this peculiarity, both solids show a new peculiarity imshared

by the cube, viz., the axis, the vertical or middle line of the solid, does

not throughout fall in one of the three fundamental directions, but

indifferently between all three.

Since, now, the nature of the octahedron and tetrahedron rests

wholly in and is one with the nature of the cube, and since the

form of the octahedron and tetrahedron proceeds from the form of

the cube, the property common to the two former, that the axis or

vertical line may fall indifferently between the three fundamental

directions, must necessarily also lie already in the cube, and this

property comes out also through the efficiency of the law of equilib-

rium ruling in Nature ; for the falling of the octahedron and tetra-




hedron so that the axis or vertical line comes to lie indifferently

between the three principal directions will, in the case of the cube,

condition and necessarily require such a descent.

The cube now appears resting on one of its corners, so that the

vertical line or axis now runs from this corner through the middle

point to the opposite corner, and so now no longer in one of the three

principal directions, but likewise falls indifferently between them.

Thus as the cube by the alteration of its axis became quite different,

it also outwardly represents thereby a quite new appearance, a quite

new form. Two and two sides, two and two, or four and four edges

and points, appeared always to belong together, all advanced in theeven numbers of two and four ; all now appear to belong together in

three and three :—

three and three sides,

three and three edges,

three and three corners.

Instead of the two now appears the three, and a quite new series

of solids appears thereby at once given and determined in Xature

but the consideration and development of these must be preceded by

the consideration and development of the solids with three funda-

mental directions.

By the effort of the power expressing itself by means of itself and the

solid to form corners into edges or sides ; by the effort to contract edges

into corners and to form them into sides ; by the effort to represent

sides as edges and corners ; by the effort to make outwardly visible the

directions, points, lines, and planes hidden within and invisibKfe, and

outwardly invisible yet visible, and to represent them as such ; by the

effort of the solids to outwardly represent in this way the inner, like-

sided spherical nature of the power wdiich acts equally on all sides,

and thus the effort of these solids to form themselves again to the

spherical form,— three series of solids proceeding from the cube, the

octahedron, and the tetrahedron are definitely given, which in differ-

ent directions are in a net-like manner connected with one another,

but which through a small number of principal members, and a massof secondary members which can yet be reached by the eye, soon again

represent from themselves forms similar to the sphere, and pass over

into such forms.

With the formation of all the solids which have been hitherto

mentioned the three principal directions were always also eqitally

active and determining.




In the further-continued formation of the solids the introduction

of a difference between three equal principal directions is necessarily

conditioned by the advancing and receding given at the same time in

and with the nature of the power, and by the precise relations of the

tension of the power (and so of the material given at the same time

with the power), which are rendered necessary thereby, according to

the self-existing law.

This necessarily given relation of difference of the three principal

directions must be that the one of the three principal directions which

coincides wdth the axis of the solid is unlike the two others in its equiva-

lentsimilar directions, and either greater or less than the others.

In the series of the solids proceeding from the first relation, four-

sided columns and elongated octahedrons, and, in the series of the

solids proceeding from the second relation, four-sided tablets and

compressed octahedrons will constitute the principal solids.

Since here we are speaking only of the necessary inner fundamental

relations of the power and its effect, all varieties of extension of the

solids dependent on outer relations of extension of the material are

necessarily beyond our consideration and regard.

The formation of the two series of solids just defined continues to

advance from four to four, and in numerical relations determined

thereby,— solids having four members.

As in the preceding, only one of the three rectangular directions

is always unlike the other two which are alike, all three directions

can be and are imlike. The solids, which in their appearance and

formation depend on this, will have for their principal forms rather

long, four-sided tablets and octahedrons, with three different planes

of intersection.

The formation of the two series continues to advance here by two

and two and two, and, in the numerical relations thereby conditioned,

solids whose members are in pairs. But the formation now continues

to advance in members having the same name, having like sides and

conforming to the same law, or having unlike sides. The former con-

ditions the above-defined series;

the latter conditions series of solids,

which may be defined as two-and-one membered and one-and-one

membered.

The further formation of these solids proceeds according to the law

and effort lying in the nature of the power to represent the develop-

ment of the corners to edges and surfaces, and vice versa, and thus

in the effort to represent outwardly the inward du-ections of forms




similar to the sphere. All the solids proceeding from these relations

of the three fundamental directions are very peculiar in their appear-

ance and formation, on account of the peculiar fundamental determi-

nations.

So, now, the fundamental conditions of the knowledge, perception,

and derivation of all solids with three equal principal directions, are

given as well in accordance with their individual appearance as with

their reciprocal, net-like, allied relations.

Those solids whose axis of formation falls indifferently between the

three fundamental directions, and whose fundamental form is the

alreadyrecognized cube now resting on its corners,

nowrequire

further consideration.

Besides the peculiarities already recognized, — even at the first

appearance of the cube in such position that the axis of formation

now falls from one corner through the middle point to the other cor-

ner, and so the first corner lies in the vertex and the other in the base

of the figure,— which are limited, by the way in which the numbers

belong together, to three and three, there come out with further con-

sideration other peculiar laws of formation, and peculiar properties

dependent on these laws.

First of all, with the merely outward consideration of the cube in

this position, comes out the peculiarity that the six bounding surfaces

now no longer appear as six pure squares, and therefore with equal

cross-lines, but as symmetrical quadrangles with cross-lines of differ-

ent length, therefore rhombs, which here in the beginning appear

outwardly, but with the next step of formation and continued devel-

opment of these series of solids are immediately introduced outwardly,

but proceeding from inner limitations.

Therefore all the figures of this series of formation bounded by

six equal surfaces are always bounded by six equal rhombs. The

fundamental form of this series of formation is, therefore, the rhombo-

hedron, and the fundamental determinations and fundamental law

lying in the rhombohedron are the fundamental determinations and

fundamental law of all the formations which now follow.

The multitude of the solids developing from the rhombohedron is

very great, almost incalculable. However, they divide immediately

from their fundamental form into several series, each of which again

is headed by a principal form conditioned in the fundamental form

.

The three edges at the base, and the three at the vertex, form

themselves to surfaces according to the already mentioned working




law, invisibly in the interior, or invisibly yet visibly in the external

directions, until they set bounds to each other's development. The

product is a solid bounded by two times six surfaces uniting in the

base and vertex of the figure with equal upper and lower edges. It

is the double-pointed, equal-edged dodecahedron.

The side-edges, according to inward determinations, form sloping

double surfaces. The product is a solid likewise bounded by two

times six surfaces uniting in the vertex and base of the figure, but

not with equal edges at vertex and base, but only with double alter-

nate equal edges at vertex and base. It is the double-pointed, three-

and-three-edged dodecahedron.

Proceeding from the rhombohedron, or from the two defined

double-pointed dodecahedrons, two new solids are determined by the

formation of the side-corners or the side-edges into surfaces, according

to the direction of the axis, and by the formation of the end-corners

into just such surfaces. These new solids are two hexahedrons which

have straight end-surfaces, but, according to their inner nature, and

therefore also according to their origin, have this diiference, that the

one column belongs to the side-edges, and the other to the side-corners,

of the principal body ; and they are therefore also distinguishable as

six-sided edge-columns having straight surfaces at both ends, and as

six-sided corner-columns having straight surfaces at both ends.

According to this inner coherence here indicated, the fundamental

and principal forms stand to each other as follows :—

Rhombohedron.

Double-pointed, Double-pointed,

equal-edged, three-and-three-edged,

dodecahedron. dodecahedron.

Six-sided, Six-sided,

straight end-surfaced, straight end-surfaced,

corner column. edge column.

According to the repeatedly expressed and applied laws of Nature,

according to the laws of the self-representing power to form points as

surfaces and edges, and vice versa, according to these and other neces-

sary limitations, there develop from the prominent fundamental and

principal solids derived from the nature of the power in increasingly

strict legitimacy, all the three-and-three membered solids already

thus given and determined, witli all their immediate transition-forms

and connecting forms. More and more spherical solids result from

this development.



MAN AS A SCHOLAR. 117'

And thus with the tliree-and-three membered solids (which are

necessarily given by these determinations, but which in their con-

nections form an innumerable multitude) combined with the solids

akeady conditioned in the three fundamental directions, each indi-

vidual solid is already given and conditioned, and so the province of

solids is complete. Yet all the different indivirUial figures given by

the law hitherto recognized can and will develop in accordance with

the general workings of the power and other particular, peculiar limi-

tations in different relations of extension, therefore with predominat-

ing length, breadth, and thickness, though always simply. For the

solids, which hitherto proceeded from the nature of the power, are

always only simple and single, yet, in consequence of the effort to

represent from itself solids bounded by straight lines (an effort given

indeed at the same time as the power, but just on that account condi-

tioning higher development of it), the totality of the original power,

striving to work on all sides with equal action and alike at every side,

has come into such tension, and especially such outer and inner oppo-

sition, that it becomes, even externally, the first effort of the power to

equalize this tension, and annul this opposition in every possible way.

The first and simplest outward effort within the limits of the rep-

resentation of the solid is to form from itself, and to represent, figures

in purely opposite position and du'cction. The result of this will be

figm-es which comlnne the two, three, four, and even more single

solids in opposite and thus comparing directions and positions, into

an outwardly single collective form, and in the latter case to appear

as lawless accumulations of the inextricable law of union.

With these latter formations originate a whole new series of com-

pound and aggregate figures which appear as the indtation of the

figures of higher stages of formation, as clustered, budded, spherical.

Through these last-named aggregations, each individual form

appears again especially to represent outxârdly one of the all-sided

directions originally working in the power, and so they (the aggre-

gations) in common seem to represent that which is impossible to

the individual,— the form of the original sphere.

So also, at and in this stage of the formations of the solids, life

appears as in a symbol ; and, with all the inflexible difference, there

is shown an inner, living coherence, and especially the similarity and

unity of laws as they come out more and more clearly at each follow-

ing stage of the development of Nature.

Now all these forms and figures (which, as outward phenomena,




belong pre-eminently only to the ^s'orld of material, to the -SYorld Trith

only working power), whose outward unit, and, as it were, outwardly

creating unity, is the sphere,— show in common the great peculiarity

that their members are only multiples of two composed of an even

number of members, and multiples of three composed of three and

three members. On the other hand, the efficiency of the directions of

power according to and in the laws of number, wholly excludes the

Jive and seven, and for the same reason the two (four) and three

(six) and all figures thereby conditioned, since the five and seven

appear either only subordinate and not pure, or only accidental and

transient.

Farther : all solids appear in themselves whollj' of the same mate-

rial, without a necessarily conditioned and abiding middle, but always

a referential middle, and therefore a middle annulled also by the annul-

ling of the reference ; therefore the eifect of the power with equal mate-

rial, and with material which remains equal, is heightened only by

increase of mateiial. The working power, therefore, appears also as

simple, having members, but not as a unity including a manifoldness.

Hence the develox:)ment and representation of the power at the

stage of production of the fixed solids ; hence the stage of the devel-

opment of the power within the limits of these forms. Yet the nature

of the power as a self-active nature, with equal action on all sides,

demands necessarily (besides what was already recognized from the

nature of the power even in appearance in its outward representation

in form) not only what the fixed solid gives,— a referential, changing

middle, annulled with theannulling of the outward condition, but a

definite middle, necessarily given by the nature and effect of the

power,— an abiding point of reference for the out-going and return-

ing of all expressions and all activities of power, a point also per-

ceptible in the figure, and not merely a point of union, but also the

bearer, and the determining point of the power.

But the province of the fixed solids does not show such a unit-

ing point; the fixed solid cannot possess it (since the one abso-

lutely excludes the other), however inalienably it is conditioned in

the nature and in the development and cultivation of the power

which leads to completion.

But the representation of a figure corresponding to that point is

made impossible likewise by the material, conditioned by the law of

the solids, bounded by straight surfaces,— the material, which is there-

fore stretched even in its smallest particles, fixed in form, and com-




posed of parts ; for the material, all the parts of which are every-

where alike, absolutely excludes as such the predominance of a single

middle point of power and of reference for activity, or of several such

points. But therefore the introduction of a point of union and refer-

ence, of a middle point of the power, conditions just as absolutely a

complete dissolution of the connected parts, of the state of connection,

of the solidity of the material, of the solid.

The power as such in its develo23ment and cultivation further

conditions and demands a plurality of expressions of power and

activities which proceeded from unity, and are under the limitation

of unity; since it could not at all otherwise raise itselfto independent

power.

It cannot, therefore, suffice to the nature of the power, and to the

efforts to its complete development and representation accompanying

it, that it should only be different in action on different sides ; its

fundamental effort demands that it should be in itself membered;

demands under the condition of unity (having proceeded from, and

therefore being dependent on unity) an association of powers, each of

which has independent action, but only for the collective representa-

tion of that which is conditioned by unity.

But the power which is thus in itself composed of parts requires

and conditions a material similarly composed.

But the material, which at each place assigned to it by the activity

of power proceeding from and conditioned by the unity of the power,

is able to correspond to the individual and collective demand of the

power, is necessarily in itself composed of members. Material is

membered, which with equal readiness subjects itself to the demand

of the membered power, whether this demand be for representation

of the general or particular, the inner or outer, or for whatever side

and direction of the power.

Material composed of members conditions a perfectly free and

unobstructed, all-sided determinateness ; but material which is in

itself tense, solid, the sides of which differ, excludes this : therefore,

in power which is itself membered, the different-sided condition of

the material is wholly annulled, and it is raised to the state of being

composed of members.

Different-sided material can only be fitted for, and pass over into,

a higher stage and gradation, it can only become membered material

by sinking back into a perfectly dismembered condition, in appear-

ance wholly without coherence,— a condition of the most extreme

dissolution, — and by becoming powder.




In this necessity also the requirements and conditions of the high-

est and most spiritual life show themselves as in a t3'pe; therefore at

this stage of development of Nature the knowledge of and insight into

the character of Nature is highly important for the education of one's

self and others.

Section 73.

The outward and backward tendency of the power comes out at

the same time with the existence of the power as one with it ; for one

is indeed absolutely conditioned with the other and by the other.

But now the power, developing a manifoldness from itself as from a

definite perceptible unity, and referring the manifoldness to the unity,

necessarily conditions thereby an alternating outward and backward

tendency of the power; and as this tendency breaks up and annihi-

lates the fixity of the material, so it also destroys the co-existence, as

it were, the reciprocal relation, of the outward and backward ten-

dency; conditioning on the other hand, as proceeding from and

referring to a definite and perceptible middle, an instantaneous sepa-

ration and an instantaneous reunion, and thus outwardly an instanta-

neous different and separate advance and receding of the power, and

a fluctuation and undulation of the power perceptible in and by means

of the material.

In the solid the advance and receding is one at each instant, is an

indivisible unity, and therefore the solid appears fixed. The sej)ara-

tion of this co-existence, and the slightest predominance of one or the

other action of the power, immediately desti'oys the fixed condition

of the solid, and thus the solid itself, and represents it as earthy,

fluid, or gaseous. But since the greater freedom and independence

of the power, and yet the greatest co-existence of the outward and

backward tendency condition the greatest perfection of the power, the

power will have attained its greatest independence at that stage where

the advance and receding alternate most quickly.

But this constant advancing and receding has its cause in a

constant equalization, therefore a moving plane:

this stage of thepower, proceeding from and going back to a unity,— a precise, percep-

tible point,— is called "life."

This point, as bearing this independent, self-active life in itself,

and breathinsj- it out, as it were, to separate manifoldness, is therefore

significantly called the " heart-point."

The next new stage of the development of the power (to the



MAK AS A SCHOLAR. 121

power working only in and for solids) is the more perfect formation

conditioning the life-point, the life conditioning the heart-point.

In complete accord with the nature and requirements of the

power, several, or but few, or only one, of the points of the activity of

power, strive to rise to heart-points in the material. This is one of

the most direct causes of the separation of the life-form. So the

power strives to make itself more and more independent of the mate-

rial, and more and more self-dependent, so that now the greater or

less action of the power, the greater or less expression of life, no longer

necessarily depends on a greater or smaller mass of the material ; this

is a prevailing appearance of all forms, and of all formation in which

life expresses itself.

In accordance with this fundamental law, all life-forms immedi-

ately on their first appearance separate into two series : one in which

the appearance of life is subordinate to the material ; the other where

the material is subjected to the activity of life. The latter series of

forms is rightly called living: the former, bearing life within itself

in self-acting movement, is said to be livebj, active. So, proceeding

from this side of the consideration of the nature of the expression of

power, all natural objects arrange themselves thus :—

Working,

Living, (Solid) Lively.

Since life always conditions and demands repeated turning back

of the activity to the centre of the power, the heart-point, indeed

consists in this returning, and creates in and by this return new

power of the outward existence, so necessarily all life-forms increase,

and really grow from within outward.

This necessary, and therefore, as here and hitherto indicated, inner

coherence of the working, living, and lively, proceeds clearly also

from another side of the consideration of Nature, and from the general

law of Xature that the general is demanded by the particular, that

the genei-al proceeds from the particular, that the particular demands

and conditions the general.Since, now, the before-recognized and developed properties of the

power necessarily lie in and proceed from its nature as necessary

results, they must necessarily also have their continued existence with

the continued existence of the power, and with like necessity must

definitely express themselves in the following stages of the develop-

ment and cultivation of the power, though in different form, connec-




tion and gradation, and advanced figure, but in accordance with tlie

nature of the thing. This requirement, necessarily proceeding from the

nature of the power, will now inalienably express itself in each form

of the figure conditioned by its advancing stages of development, and

will be the inner determining cause of the form and figure. There-

fore the figures of the next two recognized defined stages of develop-

ment will immediately show the peculiarity that, as in the solid the

circular and revolving appeared as subordinate, and as it were acci-

dental, it now appears in the life-form as essential, yet with the

distinction that in the living forms of Xature the radiate, and the flat

dependent uponit,

appear as prevailing and predominant, but therevolving and spherical as subordinate. With the active forms of

Nature, on the contrary, the radiate and that which depends upon it

will be the subordinate, and the revolving and circular the predomi-

nant.

As, now, the membered power necessarily demands and conditions

a membered material, both demand and condition a membered form

and therefore the living life-forms, the vegetable forms in which the

life is still subordinate to the material, will be more radiate in their

formation and approximating to the law of the solid, and will repre-

sent this law in an advanced membered condition, and in life and

with life.

Hence in so many plants there is still the pure expression of the

solid, the expression and representation of the fundamental law of

the solid, which here makes itself known, especially through the rela-

tions of number.

Number originally denoted the extreme, the end, as many ancient

combinations of words still attest. Therefore the relations of number

in the plant-world appear so important, because they denote, as it

were, the ends of the directions of power to which the solids, and each

future advanced appearance of the solid, owe their peculiar forms and

figures. As the solids having equal members and the solids having

directions of equal importance and even-numbered members have a

peculiar, and in a certain respect very simple character andexpression of life, so the plants which have equal numbers and an

even number of members (two and two) have a similar expression of

life, and, as was already the case with the solids, they especially point

out the three-and-three membered plants in contrast.

The two-and-two membered plants express this law clearly and

precisely, as well by the alternating position of the leaves as by the




two-and-two surfaced form of the stalk. Peculiar properties which

are always existing also express themselves with the peculiarity of the

existing relation of number ; so particular inner properties continually

connect themselves with each particular expression of number, and

with its particular and peculiar manifestation ; so, for example, the

plants belonging to the numbers two and two almost universally give

out very strong aromatic fragrance.

The life-forms, however, by no means content themselves with

more individual representation of the relations of direction originally

given and the relations of number directly dependent on these, which

limit the solids;

but higheractivities in the relations of formation

make their appearance together with the activity of power increased

to life, an activity which has its foundation in the analyzed external

relations of tension ;and so with life and the life-forms, as well with

plants as with animals, the relation of number of the five, which with

the solids appears only extremely subordinate, almost only accidental

and transitory, appears here early as ruling and powerfully active.

As a manifest, peculiar efficacy shows itself with the introduction

of the relation of number of the five in all the natural objects in

which it appears, the manifestation of the five and the conditions of

its manifestations are remarkably symbolic and full of significance.

Widely as its appearance is extended in the vegetable kingdom,

the five rarely comes out pure;that is, so that all the individualities

of the five are of equal importance according to the position, the

form, and in general the value ; and, if its most external appearance

is indeed pure, it is so changing that it only remains actually the

same in some few phenomena.

This attests plainly its origin, which has its foundation only in

the chained efficiency of the power, in the effort of the power now

raised to life, to represent each relation by and from itself.

Since the representation of the five, and of the seven, which is akin

to it, as independently determining and continuously developing,

is wholly excluded from the merely acting power, and hence each

following development and phenomenon of the activity of power is

conditioned only in the power as working, this representation can

only originate in a separation, or in a drawing-together of relations

of direction and of the relations of number proceeding from these,

which relations are conditioned by the acting power.

And so it is : the five apj)ears in the plant-world either by the sepa-

ration of one of the fundamental directions of the four-membered, or




two-and-two menibered, or by the drawing-together of two funda-

mental directions of the three-and-three menibered.

Abiiost all plants which have the expression of the number of the

five attest this.

Plants, therefore, which show almost no change of five in their

blossoms, are to be considered as belonging to the pure five;plants

which belong to the inner law of the two and two, and represent the

five in their blossoms, will show it as two, two, and one, since it pro-

ceeded from the separation of one of the equally important directions :

therefore four of the members always belong together in pairs, and

one stands alone, and will develop thus through all the forms and

connections of the flower-formations belonging to the five.

Such plants then appear as repi'esentations of the law of the two

and two passing into the two, two, and one.

In general the phenomena of the five which have proceeded from

two and two fundamental directions are the most manifold in form

and connections, as is shown by all plants \\'ith alternate leaves.

The arrested equilibrium between the two and two can only with

difficulty be again attained.

It is quite otherwise with the plants, the expression of whose forms

and especially of whose flowers proceeded from the law of three and

three. The five has here originated, not by a separation of one into

two, but by the imion of two fundamental directions into one, and the

security and rest which, as it were, proceeded from the imion and

drawing-together are expressed even in the simplest flowers. One

example will suffice,— the rose.

The five therefore appears in Nature at the stage of the life-forms as

the number which unites the nature of the two and the three. The five

appears separating and uniting as three and two, therefore, as it comes

forth with the advance of merely working power to the living and

active, it is also truly the number of the separating and uniting life

it is the number of reason at the stage of the forms of the living,

of that which incessantly and interiorly produces the new from

itself, of that which in itself is always advancing. For it appears so

much the more abiding, the higher the stage of development of the life-

forms. At the stage of plant-formations, first of all, the almost pure

five belongs to those plants which bear within themselves the greatest

perfection and manifoldhess. Hence the kinds of fruit, kernel and

stone fruits, and the tropical fruits belong to the law of the almost

pure five.




Are not the first capable of numberless improvements and develop-

ments ?

Do not the roses, which belong to the five, proceeding from the

three and three, show the like in the flower-world ?

Are not then- varieties capable of being more and more increased?

Does not almost every region bring forth a new variety of the

potato ? And how much these varieties have already developed since

they have been known !

So it is again those plants which by their blossoms belong to the

almost pure five, which most easily multiply themselves and increase,

suchas the roses

again, the pinks, auriculas, ranunculuses.So a higher expression of heightened and advanced life expresses

itself unequivocally where the number five appears, to which the

number owes its existence by the separation or union of that which is

strictly and fixedly determined by the rigid law.

Proceeding not from the outward phenomena of the number, but

from the deepest, most inward limitation, unity, and nature of it,

in which all number, and the manifoldness and relations of number

are necessarily founded, the following urges itself upon our notice

as the solids, the parts of which are straight and equal, appear only

simple, making known but little of the manifoldness of the powêr, like

formations of the mind as it were, the three-and-three membered solids

on the contrary appear, in consequence of their continuing outward

separation, in ever new forms to resemble, in their manifoldness, for-

mations of reason and consciousness. And as in all three-and-three

membered solids, the axis of formation separated from each of the

three equally important fundamental directions, and thus established

itself independently as of equal importance in relation to all three,

the development goes on almost endlessly outwardly separating and

outwardly connecting. Consequently there is nothing which the three-

and-three fundamental form cannot separate ; even the light must sub-

ject itself to the outwardly separating power of this form, as in the

calcareous spar, and in a three-and-three membered artificial form, —

the prism.

Therefore also at the stage of the solid, the act of falling from the

law of continued formation and development with like action on all

sides and on equal members, into the three-and-three membered,

resembles the falling, or, what is in effect here similar, the descent of

the spiritual part of man from the purely harmonious development of

mind into the outwardly separating and doubting cultivation of rea-




son ;for the three-and-three membered first introduces the descent of

the solid in the circumference of the outward knowledge of forms.

In reference to the peculiar nature and peculiar effects of the

power as lining and in itself one, the plant-world shows the following

phenomena: through the different stages of gradation of one and the

same living power in a living form of Xature— a plant— each part

of the whole appears to be in possession of the whole power, only in

different degrees of gradation; hence at the stage of the life-forms

(the plants), it is so frequently possible to call forth the whole form,

the whole plant, from a single part, — a bud, a leaf, a piece of root.

Hence, also, in the vegetable world appears the phenomenon,expressing itself as a fundamental law of plants, that each follow-

ing stage of development always makes known in greater measure

the nature of the unity which is working in the form, as each fol-

lowing stage of development is an advance on the preceding; thus

the petals are developed plant-leaves; the stamens and pistils, devel-

oped petals. Each following formation represents the interior of

the plant, the nature of it, in more and more delicate coverings,

and lastly, as it were, in breath and fragrance.

The inner (thus become almost wholly outward) again takes up

the germ into itself, and thus again represents it as inward.

Up to the blossoming-time the plants express an outward striving,

an uprising; from the blossom-time up to that of the completely

ripened fruit they express the most extreme retraction.

The phenomena of plants show, therefore, not only a manifoldness

and ramification of the power, but also an advance ; but for this rea-

son also, wîth the lessening power in the vegetable world comes the

frequent phenomenon of a sinking-back from a later stage of cultiva-

tion and continued development into an earlier stage ; for example,

the sinking-back from the formation of the flower-leaves into the

formation of the leaves of the calyx, from the formation of the leaves

of the calyx into complete plant-leaves, and the sinking-back of the

stamens and pistils into flower-leaves ; which phenomena are so often

shown in the roses, the poppies, the mallows, the tulips, etc. And in

the former reference, the artificial development of the calyx of the

flower to the crown of the flower, when the plant has an especially

good position and especially good food, as Avith the garden-primrose,

belongs here.

So now, therefore, the nature of the whole j^lant lies in each

independent part of the plant, only in a peculiar way. But the




fundamental effort of each thing and each phant is to represent itself

on all sides in its peculiarity ; so, now, this effort to represent from

itself the form of the sphere, appears to be more connected with the

leaves than with the other parts of the plant ; hence the phenomenon

especially frequent with them, but also frequent with other parts of

the plant, that after an injury the wounded part strives to represent

the spherical by itself, which is shown with especial beauty by the

so-called rose-moss on the wounded foliage of the rose.

So the nature of the power increased to life, while outwardly qui-

escent, shows itself by the plants : therefore the plants, in this respect,

seem like the blossoms and flowers of Xature. Andas, in

the case ofthe plants, the whole nature of the plant again draws into the inte-

rior, into the unity from the time of blossoming and fructification,

so, at the now following stage of the formation and development of

Xature, the development and advance of the power from life to vivid

action into all that is outward and manifold again makes its appear-

ance in an interior and unity, in a seed, in rounded forms ; therefore,

on account of their simple rounded forms, the lowest forms of animal

life are like seeds which have become living.

And thus the totality of all earth-forms, although in itself but a

small part of the gTeat whole of Xature, yet relatively a finished,

independent, great, membered whole, seems to result from the law of

the single repeating itself in mass.

The forms of the power increased to life, the active forms,— the

animals,— are also in themselves again a great, membered whole, as it

were, a form bearing life in itself ; this is made knowai by the great,

general, extended laws of Nature, which also through their whole

totality pervadingly express themselves solely in single and individ-

ual application.

So a law of the five just necessarily conditioned by the entrance of

higher life, and really one with it, expresses itself in the case of all ani-

mals with heightened enjoyment of life ; and this takes place as soon as

these animals appear, or as soon as animals in general appear ; which

is attested by the remains of the submerged anterior wôrld. Thusthe five comes out early, contemporaneously with the life of this great

animal whole, abides with it as the fundamental law, although in dif-

ferent kinds of drawing-together and separating ; and also with man,

in whom the activity appears increased even to complete spirituality,

the five is the essential property of his forming hand, his principal

member, the principal tool of his forming creative power.




Another great, generally extended law of Xature, which expresses

itself with especial clearness in the wdiole animal world, and repre-

sents the just-defined totality of animals as relatively a completed

whole, is the law of making the external internal, and vice versa.

So the first forms of animal life live in an almost stone house,

w^hich is the bearer of the still soft body, and almost independent of

it, only outwardly enclosing the creature as something foreign to and

separate from it ; but the creature is nevertheless bound during its

life to the fixed place of its chalky covering.

Later, the animals appear torn loose, independent, no longer

chained to one point during life, like a plant ; but they and their

outer stony covering adhere to one another, so that the covering

encloses the body like a firm bark.

"With the following animal formations, the cartilaginously stony

covering outwardly diminishes more and more ; it sinks, as it were,

into the flesh, and, in proportion as it outwardly vanishes, it makes its

appearance with the fishes and amphibia as a cartilaginous skeleton,

leaving its remains on the body in the form of scales.

This cartilaginous skeleton becomes, with the following animal

formations, more and more a fixed, bony skeleton ; and the more com-

plete this is, the more does the muscular mass before covered by the

mass of stone now cover the stone-like bones, and now appears

enclosing, as it before appeared enclosed ; what was external is now

internal, what was only internal is now an outwardly complete ani-

mal. Further : the great law of Xature, the law of equilibrium —that is, the law according to which a relatively precise totality of

power imprints itself as indwelling in each living and active form,

and which conditions a relatively determined mass of material for

each body, indeed, for each kind of its parts, and also that when

this material is turned predominantly toward one side of the bodj''

and limbs, then in the same measure the development of the body

toward the other side and other limbs recedes, and thus develops

one part or one member of the body at the expense of the others—

is expressed with especial clearness in the animal world.So with the fish, the body is developed at the expense of the limbs.

But this law expresses itself with especial clearness and impres-

siveness when man, in the symmetry of his formation, is established as

the point of comparison ; as, for example, the formation of the arm

and hand of man compared with the wing of the bird, where the over-

powering and predominating development of individual members and




parts at the expense of the others precisely and intuitively expresses

itself.

Section 74.

So all manifoldness of the forms of Xature' appears throughout as

conditioned by one power, as the result of one power through all

stages of its unfolding and development. This power originally is

and appears as unity, and expresses itself clearly in the completed indi-

vidual life which has become independent, but makes itself known

as an outward phenomenon first on all sides of the forms of Nature,

according to each reference, in all the manifoldness ofthe forms of

Nature ; for the power demands the possibility of the representation

of all manifoldness which lies in it as an association and a life-whole.

And so here also is confirmed the truth, as great as it is general, that

only in a triune representation each form of Nature comj^letel}' and

perfectly expresses its nature— in unity, individuality, and manifold-

ness. So the law of development of the solid from the single-sided

to the all-sided, from the incomplete to the complete, is repeatedly

confirmed as the course of development to and for all completeness of

Nature. Thus man is the last and most complete of all earthly

beings, the last and most complete of all earthly forms, in which the

corporeal appears in the greatest equilibrium and symmetry, and the

original and primordial power, resting in eternal existence and

proceeding therefrom, appears here as spirituality ; and so the man

himself discovers, feels, understands, and tries his power; thus he

can become conscious, and is conscious, of this power.

But as man as an outward corporeal phenomenon shows the form

in equilibrium and symmetry, so desires, inclinations, and passions

undulate within him (considering him at the beginning of spirituality

as a spiritual being) . As powers working in the world of solids,

living in the vegetable world, and acting in the animal, undulated and

floated, so is it here with the spiritual powers.

And now for the series of the development of spirituality, man

stands again upon the first stage on which the solids stand for the

development of life. Therefore the knowledge of the laws of the

nature of the fixed forms, and consequently of the life-forms, is

again exceedingly important for man,— important for his own educa-

tion and that of others. Therefore the knowledge of the nature and

appearance of the fixed forms and life-forms is instructive, guiding,

enlightening, consoling, etc. And so^ therefore, Nature in all its




manifoldness should be early brought before man, before the boy, the

scholar, as unity, as a great active whole representing, as it were,

only one thought of God as a figure of life.

As Xature is in itself a constantly developing whole, developing

from itself on all sides and in each point, and as it appears as such,

it must be thus represented at an early stage to man. Without unity

in the activity of Xature, without unity for the forms of Xature,

without recognition and ]3erception of this unity, and without recog-

nition and perception of the derivation of all manifoldness from this

unity, no genuine knowledge of the manifoldness of Nature, no

genuine natural history, and consequently also no satisfactory instruc-

tion in the science of the manifoldness of Nature, of the natural

history hitherto existing only as a name, can be given to man even

in boyhood.

But also it is this unity only which the boy's mind early seeks

it is this only which satisfies the human spirit in general.

If you go out into Nature with the young boy who has genuine

life in him, if you bring before him the manifoldness of Nature, he

will immediately question you as to the higher, conditioning, active

unity. Since this was written, it has been confirmed by the repeated

questions of boys who had scarcely entered upon the stage of the

scholar, who were employing themselves with objects of Nature.

All fragmentary and dismembering contemplation of Nature

(very different from the contemplation of the particular which leads

to unity and totality) deadens the objects of Nature and Nature

itself as well as man and the contemplating human spirit.

Section 75.

These few indications for the perception of Nature as a whole

must here suffice; they are intended only to guide the father, the

educator, the teacher, to leading his scholar, his pupil, his son, toward

the j-ecognition and i3erception of the similarity of the laws of Nature

in their different stages of gradation, and toward the recognition andperception of the unity in all manifoldness, and to lead the father

et al. to view Nature as a life-whole. For as the inner vivid coher-

ence of the activity of Nature and the objects of Nature was here

indicated in general, and toward one side and direction, so nmst

Nature be brought before the scholar according to each side, direction,

and activity, as a different-sided and membered whole ; since the




powers, the materials, the tones and colors, etc., as well as the forms

and figures, have their inner unity, their vivid inner coherence, in and

among themselves and with the whole. Besides, all are dependent,

in the completeness of their development, upon the influence of a great

uniting phenomenon of Xature, a great determining substance of

Nature,— the sun, which awakens and fosters all earthly life. Indeed,

it almost seems as if the earth-forms only made known the nature of

the sunlight, so eagerly do all earthly forms turn toward the rays of

the sun, absorb the sunlight, and hang upon the light and rays of the

sun, as the child does upon the eyes and lips of the loving, teaching

father,and

of the developing, strengthening mother, with

whomit is

of like essence. And in like manner as the presence and absence of

pure parental love, of the formed parental spirit, act upon the devel-

opment and improvement of the children who are of one essence with

their parents, so do the presence and absence of the sunlight act upon

the development and improvement of the earthly forms, which are, as

it were, the children of the sun and earth. Moreover, it gives us a

more exact knowledge of the rays and light of the sun, that the

directions acting" within it are like the fundamental directions of all

earthly forms, and so the earth -forms in their totality might well show,

as it were, outwardly, visibly, and in manifoldness, the nature of the

sunlight which points to the sun itself as unity. Thus the knowledge

of the one leads with certainty to the knowledge of the other.

Thus father and son, educator and pupil, teacher and scholars,

parents and child, wander always in a great active whole of Xature.

Father, teacher, guide of children, do not answer, " I myself as yet

know nothing at all of this ; I have not as yet any knowledge of it."

The question here is by no means of the communication of already

possessed knowledge, but of calling forth new knowledge. You must

observe the object with the view of knowing about it in order to lead

the child to such observation, and to bring that which is thus observed

to the knowledge of yourseK and your charge.

Xo special skill in denominating either the objects of Nature or

their properties, but only clear, precise, sure comprehension and pre-

cise designation of the same, according to the nature of the thing and

the language, is needed for the recognition of the prevaiUng conform-

ity of the laws in Nature and of the unity of these laws.

In presenting the natural objects to the boy, and making him

familiar with them, there is no question of the communication of

the names of the objects, nor of the communication of preconceived



132 EDUCATION OF MAN".

opinions and views, but only of the pure presentation of the objects,

and the recognition of the properties which they themselves demon-

strate and express, so that the boy may observe this object as the pre-

cise, independent object which it makes itself known to be by its

form, etc.

Also the knowledge of the name before given to the object of

Nature, or generally acknowledged as authentic, is unimportant ; only

the clear perception, distinct recognition, and correct designation of

the properties, general as well as particular, are important.

Give the object of Nature its local name, or, if you do not know

any, give it the name which at once suggests itself, or, what is far

better, give it a descriptive, even though a long name, until you can

get the common equivalent name.

It will, with this effort, not be very long before the common equiv-

alent and understandable name becomes familiar to you in order to

harmonize your knowledge and the common knowledge, and to clear

up and complete the former by the latter.

Therefore, school-teacher in the country, do not say, " I have no

knowledge of the objects of Nature ; I do not know how to namethem." However simple your training may be, you can by faithful

observation of Nature with the view of learning about it, acquire far

higher and more fundamental outer and inner knowledge, more living

knowledge of the individual and of the manifold, than you can learn

from common books which are accessible to you, and with which it is

possible for you to supply yourself. Besides, this so-called higher

book-knowledge usually rests upon phenomena and perceptions which

the simplest man is in a condition to make; and, indeed, often the

observations which he makes with little or no expense are finer than

they are shown to be by the most costly experiment, if he have but

the eyes to see. He must bring himself to this capacity for seeing

by continued observation ; he must, especially, allow himself to be led

and guided to this by the boy-world around him.

Father, mother, do not be uneasy ; do not say, " I myself know

nothing;

how shall 1 teach my children ?

"

It may be that you know nothing ; but yet that is not the greatest

of evils if you only wish to know something. If you know nothing,

do like the child itself;go to father and mother, and become a child

with the child, a scholar with the scholar, and let yourself be taught

with him by mother— Nature, and by the father, the spirit of God

in Nature. The spirit of God and Nature will guide and lead you,




if yon -will let yourself be guided and led, if you do not say, "I

have not studied, I have not learned that." Ye who teach it to the

child, go like him to the fount.

Now, one of the objects of the university is, indeed, to make the

inner eye see, to open it to the outward and inward;yet it would be

sad for the human race, if those only should see who attended the

university, or, as you say, studied.

But if you parents make your boys, if you leaders of children make

your scholars and pupils, see and think at an early age, then will the

high schools again become what they should be, — schools for the

attainment of the knowledge of the highest spiritual truths, andschools for the representation of these truths in one's own life and

action,— schools of wisdom.

From each point, each object of Xature and of life, there goes a

path toward God. Only keep the point in mind and go securely

along the path;gain firmness from the conviction that Nature must

necessarily have not only an outward general cause, but an inward

acting cause (recognizable even in the smallest detail), as it proceeded

from and was limited and created by one Being, one Creator,— God,

and as it proceeded from and was conditioned by the self-resting,

necessary law of the eternal in the temporal, of the spiritual in the

corporeal. It must then necessarily be possible to recognize the par-

ticular in the general, and the general in the particular.

See ! the phenomena of Nature form a more beautiful ladder from

earth to heaven, and from heaven to earth, than Jacob saw; not a

one-sided, but an all-sided ladder ; not in one, but in all directions.

You do not see it in a dream, it is abiding, it everywhere surrounds

you ; it is beautiful ; flowers clasp it with their tendrils, and angels

look from it with their child-eyes ; and it is firm, solids form it, and

it rests upon a world of crystals ; David, the divinely inspired bard of

Nature, sings of it.

If you seek in this mauifoldness of Nature a fixed point, if you

seek a safe ladder, number is such a fixed point, the path to which

it leads is sure ; for it is conditioned by the outward appearance of

the inner directions of power : so it most directly makes known the

innermost nature of the power with that which is dependent on it, if

you only bring with you the clear eye of a boy and the simple sense

and mind of a child.

If you allow yourself to be guided by the eye and sense of a boy,

you can already know for your consolation that a simple, natural boy




does not endure half-truths and false ideas. If you only quietly, judi-

ciously, and thoughtfully attend to his questions, these questions will

instruct both you and him ;for they come from the yet childlike

human spirit, and what a child or a boy asks, a mother, a father, a

man, will be able to answer.

You say, " Children and boys ask more than parents and man can

answer."

And you are right ; but if you stand at the limit of the earthly

and at the portal of the divine, and then express simply what you see,

the spirit and mind of the child will feel satisfied. If you stand at

the limit of only your ownknowledge, do not shun the expression of

what you see, only beware of speaking as if you stood at the limit of

human insight in general, for this, though it cannot kill, crushes and

cripples the human spirit.

In these cases, question your own life, compare it with the life out-

side and around you, lead your little charge to this comparison, and

you and he will obtain the answer to your question as soon as your

insight is sufficiently ripened. You will not dimly, with perplexed

and perplexing mind, but as the human spirit, the human reason

demands, with sure, undoubting inner eye, clearly perceive what you

seek : you will see God in his works so clearly that your earthly yearn-

ings will be satisfied, and that the peace and joyousness, consolation

and succor which you require in time of need, you will find within

you.

Section 76.

Man seeks a fixed point and a sure guide (ladder) to the knowl-

edge of the inner coherence of all manifoldness in Xaturc. What can

give a more mdubitably sure and unifying starting-point than that

which appears, as it were, to bear all manifoldness within it, to develop

all manifoldness from itself, that which is the visible expression of

all conformity of laws and of law itself,— mathematics, which, on

account of this great producing property, is from the beginning called

the teaching of knowledge, the science of knowledge,— mathematics ?

And it has not only maintained this rank through thousands of

years, but still maintains it ; but just at the time when it ^light be

deprived of this rank, it has come out with a glory shining forth from

its interior, a glory which it has not hitherto enjoyed.

But by what means has mathematics not only reached, but also

maintained, this high rank? What is the nature, origin, and effect of

mathematics?




As a phenomenon it belongs equally to the inner and outer world

of man and of Nature as proceeding from the pure spirit, from the

pure laws of thought ; and, being a visible expression of these laMS

and of thought as such, it finds the phenomena, connections, forms,

and figures necessarily conditioned by these laws, outside of itself in

the outer world, in Xature, as well as quite independent of itself and

of the human mind and spirit.

Nature (in the manifoldness of its form and figures, which shaped

themselves outside of man, and independent of him in the outer world

of Nature) he finds again in his inner nature, in his spirit, in the laws

of his spirit and mind.Thus mathematics appears as uniting and intermediating between

man and Nature, the inner and outer world, thought and perception.

This great occupation which, as conditioning and conditioned, will

last as long as the inner and outer Môrld ; this requiting and most

grateful occupation, bearing its reward within it— is what for thou-

sands of years, almost since the existence of the human race, secured

to mathematics its existence and its acknowledgment; by this occupa-

tion, indeed, mathematics was actually first established by the Chris-

tian in its true rights, was first truly recognized for what it is. For it

was only possible to and reserved for the Christian— who recognizes

the one divine spirit, the action and effects of the one divine spirit in

all things— to prize it in its whole nature. For only the Christian

can declare the unity of the forms produced by the pure spirit, with

the forms, figures, and phenomena of Nature. He only can solve

the doubt, whether mathematics was deduced from thephenomena

of Nature, or the objects of Nature formed according to human

laws of thought ; in which latter case Nature and the outer world

have their existence only in the laws of human thought. For does

not the one eternal spirit of God live and work in man and in

Nature? have not man and Nature proceeded from, and are they

not conditioned by, one and the same single God?

Must there not, therefore, necessarily be union and accord in the

spirit of Nature, in the laws of its forms and powers; and in the

spirit of man, and in the laws of his formation and thought ? Must

there not be conformity of laws in both (the spirit of Nature and the

spirit of man), and between the two ?

Therefore it is possible to recognize the character of Nature from

its forms and figures, and to know this character by means of the

established laws of human thought become external by mathe-




matics ; hence mathematics intermediates, unites, produces knowl-

edge, and directly conditions knowledge. Therefore it is neither

lifeless, ending in itself, nor a definite plurality, the sum of out-

ward forms and truths, strung together and single, because found

singly and accidentally ; but it is a living whole, uninterruptedly

re-forming itself again from itself, continuously developing with

the development of thought and of the human spirit in respect to

unity, manifoldness, and recognition and perception in the most

individual particulars; for it is the visible expression of thought

in man ; it is in itself the expression of the conformity of the

lawsof the purely spiritual ; it is therefore, in this respect, a life-

whole in itself, a production of necessity and freedom.

Mathematics is therefore neither something foreign to nor

abstracted from actual life, but is the expression of life in itself,

and therefore its essence is recognizable in life, and life by its

essence.

As thought and the laws of thought xâss from unity to mani-

foldness and all-sidedness, and, though apparently starting from a

manifoldness, refer to an originally inner unity, external indeed, yet

always lying in distance or obscurity; so mathematics also necessa-

rily passes from unity to manifoldness and all-sidedness. And though

it also externally and apparently starts from individuality and mani-

foldness, yet a necessary inner unity always lies at the foundation.

All mathematical forms and figures must therefore be viewed as pro-

ceeding from and conditioned by laws lying in and conditioning the

sphere and the round, and must therefore be referred back to and

considered as unity ; but the sphere itself must be considered as i^ro-

ceeding from unity with independent, individual power.

Mathematical forms and figures must therefore not be considered

as composed according to outward, arbitrary determinations, but as

having originated according to necessary inward conditions, as a

product of an independent power which, because indexêndent, worked

originally from a middle oat on all sides ; these forms are therefore not

to be considered as separate, but as in a necessary coherence;

and, as

they also start from individuality and manifoldness, they must always,

even in the first instruction, be ]-eferred back to this conditioning unity

which is all-jDervading, like the soul.

Mathematics is the expression of space-limiting, and thus of the

limitations and properties of that which is in space. As unity is its

cause, it is unity in itself ; and as manifoldness of directions, figures,



MAN AS A SCHOLAB. 137

and extension, are given at the same time with space, so, also, num-

ber, form, and size form a comprehensive, reciprocally limiting,

actually pure, inseparable three in unity.

But since number is the expression of manifoldness in itself, and

in truth the expression of that which limits manifoldness, and there-

fore of the directions of power ; and since it by no means originated

from lifeless, outward additions, but according to active inner laws

founded in the nature of the power, while size and form can be

explained only through manifoldness,— the knowledge of number ia

the most essential and first step toward the knowledge of the triune

whole.

The knowledge of number is therefore the basis of the knowledge

of form and size, of the general knowledge of space.

But space itself is by no means lifeless, quiescent, stationary, but

exists only through the constant action of the power which is self-

limited by its own existence.

And as space itself owes its existence to and is conditioned by the

cause and fundamental law of all that exists, so the general law of

space lies at the foundation of each single appearance in space, and of

each thing which is viewed under a space-filling form, of each thing

that makes itself known in space by means of space, consequently even

of the laws of thought and the knowledge of those laws.

Mathematics must be estimated and treated far more physically

and dynamically as a product of Xature and of forces; then it will

be far more instructive, and will conduce more, not only to the knowl-

edge of Xature, especially of the chemical (material), but also to the

knowledge of the effect andnatm'e of the spiritual, the laws of thought

and sensation, than one now imagines : especially all the curved-lined

spherical, etc., departments of mathematics lead to such knowledge.

The education of man without mathematics and without funda-

mental knowledge of number at least (to which, then, the knowledge

of form and size annexes itself as a necessary condition, scantily

indeed, by occasional appropriations) is therefore an unstable, imper-

fect patchwork, and sets impassable bounds to the cultivation anddevelopment to which man and humanity are destined and called,—bounds beyond which man (since he cannot throw off his striving

nature and striving spirit) strives either to overleap, or, weary of the

fruitless, spiritual impulse and effort, seeks to paralyze his powers;

for the mind of man and mathematics are as inseparable as the soul

of man and religion.




C. Concernin(j Language and Instruction in Language.

Section 77.

But now what is language? and in what relation does it, as the

third of the poles of boy-life and of the life of man in general, stand

to the two others ?

Where true inner coherence, true inner active alternate effect, take

place, a relation immediately expresses itself like that of unity, indi-

\dduality, and manifoldness ; so here between religion, Xatui'e, and

language.In religion, the requnement of the mind, of that in man which

refers to unity, comes out predominantly, and seeks the fulfilment of

its anticipations. In the contemplation of Xature, and of mathe-

matics, which is connected with the knowledge of J^Tatore, the require-

ment of the understanding, of that in man which refers to individuality,

comes out, and seeks for certainty. In language, the requii'ement of

the reason of man of that in man which refers to manifoldness, and

unites all manifoldness, comes out, and seeks for satisfaction.

Religion is life in the mind according to the requirement of the

mind ; it is the finding and feeling of the One in all. Nature is the rec-

ognition of the individualities of Xature, of their relations to each other

and to the whole ; it is seeking according to the demand of the under-

standing. And language is the representation of the unity of all mani-

foldness, of the inner active coherence of all things ; it is the striving

according to the demand of the reason. These three are therefore an

inseparable unit ; and the one-sided, detached cultivation of the one or

the other devoid of connection, necessarily effects one-sidedness, and

consequently, at last, the destruction, or at least the ruin, of the unity

of the human being.

Religion strives to make known, and does make known, the entity.

Nature strives to make known the nature of the jJoicer, the cause of its

effect, and the effect itself. Language strives to manifest, and does

manifest, life as such and as a whole.

Religion, Nature (mathematics is, as it were, Xature in man

according to its design, its laws, and its limitations ;it is Xature as,

according to its necessary limitations, it lies and must lie in the spirit

of man, without which Xature could not become known to man, but

for that reason can be more completely known to man when actu-

ally present as an outwarcj appearance)— religion, Xature (niathe-




matics), language, have all three in all theu" manifold references the

same occupation and effort, — to make known and to reveal the inner-

most ; to make the internal external, and the external internal ; and

so to show both innermost and outermost in then- natural, original,

necessary harmony and coherence.

What, therefore, is to be said of one of these three must necessa-

rily be true of each of the two others, only in a more peculiar way.

What, therefore, has hitherto been said here of religion and Xature,

with mathematics,— must, if it was and is otherwise perfectly true in

itself, necessarily be also true of language, only with the peculiarity

conditioned by the individual nature of language;

and so it is.

But we must also in life— to the great sorrow of single and unsepa-

rated humanity, and with the greatest hindrance to the improvement

and continuous cultivation possible to humanity— meet with the delu-

sion that one can exist without the others, by itself, and can raise itself

to the stage of completeness in its cultivation and development : lan-

guage without Xature (mathematics) and religion ; religion without

language and Xature (mathematics);the knoivledge of Nature (mathe-

matics) without knowledge of language and religion.

But just as certainly as it was necessary that God, as he wished to

make himself known and reveal himself completely and indubitably

in the totality of his nature, must make himself known and reveal

himself in a triune way; just as certainly, also, is religion, Xature

(mathematics), and language, an inseparable one. The complete

knowledge of, and the firm security in, the one, conditions and de-

mands, necessarily, also the complete knowledge of the other : the

recognition of the one, conditions and demands, necessarily, also the

true recognition of the other. Since, now, man is destined to sure,

clear knowledge and to the attainment of complete consciousness,

the education of man necessarily demands also the estimation and

recognition of religion, Xature (mathematics), and language, in their

inner, active, reciprocal reference and limitation.

Without the recognition and acknowledgment of the inner union

of these three, the school and we ourselves are lost in the manifoldnessendlessly producing itself,— in the bottomless.

Such is the nature of language and its relation to man and to the

education of man.

Xow, how does language in itself and through itself make known

its nature? how does it confirm this nature?



1-iO EDUCATIO]^^ OF MAN.

Section 78.

In general, language is the self-active statement of the peculiar

interior become exterior, the representation of it by the exterior, as

the breaking of a thing makes kno^Yn its innermost.

As the breaking out of the bud into a flower makes known and

reveals the innermost of the flower, so he who speaks makes his inner

nature known by his own action;so language makes its inner known

by the outer, and is therefore the representation of the inner by the

outer.

Butthe innermost of man is constantly moving and living, it is

life ; therefore the properties and phenomena of life must make them-

selves known by the language of human tones and words.

Therefore the complete human speech, as a representation of the

nature and interior of man, and constantly connected with it, must

be made known, and so, necessarily, be audible, even in detail, by the

slightest movement.

In order, as it were, to make man known in his wholeness, in order

to make itself known all-sidedly and constantly, language must be

extremely movable.

But man in his wholeness, and as a phenomenon of Xature, also

wholly bears within himself the character of Nature; consequently

in language the nature of man, the essence of man, as well as the

whole essence of Xature, makes itself known.

Language is consequently the imitation of the whole inner and

outer world of man.

But the inner of man, like the inner of Xature, is law, is necessity,

is spirit, is eternal, is the divine, appearing outwardly and through the

outward.

Therefore language, also, must make known law, the conformity

of laws, in and by and through itself, Language must be the expres-

sion of necessary conformity to laws. The collective laws of the inner

and outer world in the whole and in the individual must therefore

present themselves in language, must lie in it as such. And so it is.

Section 79.

Language, like mathematics, is double-sided, belonging at the same

time to the inner and outer world.

Language, as an independent product of man, proceeds as directly




from the spirit of man as Natm-e does from the spirit of God : it is

the representation and expression of the human spirit, as Xature is

the representation and expression of the spirit of God.

The accordance of language as an independent product, and lan-

guage as an imitation of Nature, which suggests the question whether

language be a pure product of the spirit, or an imitation of Xature,—this, as well as a different question and opinion, finds its basis in the

fact that one and the same divine spirit dwells in all, that the same

spiritual divine laws work in all.

This accordance further has its cause in the fact that the spirit of

Nature and of

manis one

;that Nature

and man have one cause andfount of their existence, — God.

And as language is the representation of man and of Nature, and

consequently of the spirit of God, so goes forth from language, knowl-

edge of Nature and of man, and consequently revelation of God.

Indeed, language is, from the side of the contemplation of Nature,

itself the representation of power increased to life: on the side of

man, it is itself the representation of the spii'it of man becoming

conscious.

Language is therefore necessarily conditioned in the natm'e of man

as a spirit becoming conscious of itself, and destined to consciousness,

and forms with it an inseparable one.

On account of the double nature conditioned in the essence of

language, on account of the intermediating and connecting of this

double nature, mathematical as well as physical properties, properties

of life and of movement must be proper to it.

Therefore language also necessarily expresses not only the general

fundamental references and properties of Nature, but also the effects

and expressions of the spiritual in its ultimate elements of words,

voice-sounds (vowels), open and closed sounds (consonants), and the

letters denoting them.

However incomplete and lacking may be that which till now has,

from and in the outward experience, been demanded, and thus is

also still to be adduced concerning this view of language, yet theinner life, which bears language within it in its finest fibres, and

which makes of it a complete life-whole, goes forth from it clearly

and, notwithstanding this incompleteness of the attempts, and defi-

ciency of facts individually, the inner conviction cannot be repressed,

but rather comes forward with confirmation at each step within the

language whole— that in every language very clear, fixed, and precise




mathematical, physical, physico-psychical laws (laws of Xature and

of the spirit), conditioned by inner necessity, express themselves in

the elements of words, voice-sounds, open and closed sounds, and their

signs, the letters with their different combinations. The conviction

also comes forth that the representation of a definite object or idea by

word, viewed and recognized from one particular side, necessarily

requires these precise elements of words (letters), that it requires

exclusively these and no others, so that each single word is thus a

necessary, precise product of certain individual word-elements, as each

individual, material product, each chemical product, is conditioned

only by precise individual material, or, what is the same, by definite,

individual powers.

In other words, the elements of words in their different combina-

tions symbolically represent the objects of Nature, the forms of the

spirit and their relations, according to their innermost nature and the

personal or provincial, etc., comprehension.

With but slightly-won attention to the conformity of laws every-

where expressing itself in the natural as well as spiritual, the physical

as well as the psychical world, this conformity of laws in the forma-

tion of particular words in om* language can absolutely not be repelled

indeed, the inner conformity of laws, and, as it were, the activeness in

the formation of words, is indubitable for him who is vividly pene-

trated by their inner life and their inner unity, though there is still

little to be said about this conformity in particular.

This might, indeed, deter one from speaking for this conformity of

laws, for the truth and acknowledgment of this conformity of the laws

of language ; but one sees himseK here in the position of the lover of

music who is not musically trained. Music speaks to him in the great

musical representation in all freedom, necessity, and legitimac}^, though

he himself can bring out and show but few of these musical laws, and

can still less follow even the slightest of them : indeed, one who is

wholly uncultivated hears and enjoys the music without even a dim

presentiment of its law, and it is at best merely the measure which he

is able to retain.

Something similar may be said of the impression of forms, colors,

materials, and forces. We see ourselves surrounded by their mani-

foldness and by their different effects upon us and other human

beings, almost without divining, still less perceiving, their unity and

the accordance of their laws.

But because these laws are not di\dned, are not known, and are

still less perceived, do they the less exist ?




So is it with us with our mother-tongue and the finer laws of its

formation of words. Because we hear it spoken from the first instant

of our self-knowledge, it appears to us like a continual sound, or at

most, in reference to its visible single words and word-stems, like a

collection of variegated stones of which different kinds of trinkets

may be made, or like beautiful plants of which beautiful bouquets

are made. But the words in their origin, so called stems, appear as

accidental material, without being subject to a liigher principle of

organization.

As entirety of tones proceeds from fundamental tones, as the total-

ity of material proceeds from primary materials, and as forms proceed

from the fundamental directions of the forces, so in language the words

go forth as images of objects, as representations of ideas, so that they

form fundamental ideas and totality of ideas.

The elements of the words (visibly the letters) are therefore by no

means something dead, by the arbitrary arrangement of which, words

result ; but they indicate original and necessary, mathematical, physi-

cal, psychical, fundamental conceptions : hence they bear some sig-

nificance in themselves, and form the word according to necessary,

legitimate grouping ; and thus each object, thing, property, relation,

etc., ax^pears as a totality of conceptions, but also as the product of

certain single fundamental conceptions, which, by their inward, recip-

rocal penetrating, form the whole,— the word.

Let us listen, for example, to words beginning with fr. These

single words as single totalities of conception have a fundamental

conception pervading all ; this is an immateriality or spirituality

making itself known in outward, acting manifoldness, which lan-

guage seeks to designate by /r.i

Let us listen, on the other hand, to words beginning withfl. All

these words have, indeed, the expression of immateriality or spiritual-

ity, but by no means in the vigorous, lively, external activity which is

expressed in the words beginning with fr; but, as the conceptions

of those words all enter vigorously into outward life, the conceptions

of these words all indicate more an inward life, an inward, constantactivity, as those do more a totality of single activities. The former

words had in common the letters fr ; the latter, the letters fl ; both

have the spirituality or immateriality denoted by /; the distinction of

1 The author speaks of Grerman words ; but it is also the case, to a certain extent,

with English words. — Translator.




more outward, single life must therefore be denoted by r ; and the

expression of more inward, constant life, by I.

Words whose central vowel is u, and, on the other hand, words

whose central vowel is a, the consonants of which are the same or

similar, we shall find express in the first series an inward character,

but in the second series an externality. Since, now, the effective dif-

ference is u and a, language must denote more the inner by u, and the

outer by a. From this proceeds the fact that rhyme, the unity of that

which is outwardly manifold, has a deep inner principle.

If we listen to words beginning with k, we find that all these words

have in common an independent, resisting power;

which common ideais expressed in language by the common element Tc.

Incomplete and inadequate as is and may be that which an occa-

sional and often long-interrupted observation of language has yet until

now recognized as a pervading phenomenon and law, yet it is placed

here in order to point out, at least in general, the conformity of laws

shown by language from this side of consideration also. Indeed, it

seems as if an incomplete demonstration of the results of this side of

the considerafon of language might injure the true estimation of it

yet this view of language is too deeply grounded in the essence of

language, and too important to the development of man for the

attainment of self-consciousness and for the knowledge of the outer

world itself to be passed by ; wherefore it only need be pointed out

and shown in some coherence to develop, continue to form, and

confirm itself. This view will be more extensively carried out later

for the purpose of education and instruction, since by means of it

language can be recognized in its innermost relation to Xature and

to the spirit of man, and, in a certain reference, the similarity of its

laws with those of both can also be recognized.

First of all, language, as a type of something formed in space, or

spiritually formed, and as a fundamental property, must necessarily

express the inner, the outer, and the connection ;and in fact language

generally expresses the inner by the vowels, the outer by the closed,

and the connection by the open sounds. These three fundamentalelements of language have a reciprocal relation like unity, individual-

ity, and manifoldness.

But since the opposites of inner and outer, as well as all oppo-

sites in general, are only relative, so the inner separates again into an

innermost, an essence, and into a form of appearance.********






The law of movement of language, the general expression of life

in language, is originally so one with language, and so inseparable

from it (as life itself is inseparable from the objects represented by

language), that all the first representations of language as representa-

tions of the inner and outer life must necessarily also be representa-

tions of the legitimate inovement of language ; they must be repre-

sentations in movement-wholes, and this so much the more as the

inner life of the object becomes more actively and outwardly percep-

tible to man in his cliildhood and youth, and therefore also to the

whole human race in its childhood and youth. Therefore, now, the

representation of language in movement-wholes, in connected speech,

belongs at first to youth, as it first of all belonged to the youth of the

human race, and as man in general sees and perceives the whole in its

connectedness, especially in its connection with man, earlier than he

does the single in its singleness. Therefore, from several points of

view, the representation of language in connected speech, the repre-

sentation of language, therefore speech itself, in series of movements,

in movement-wholes, necessarily belongs to youth, and, when youth

has lost it, one of the first, most original and natural means of enno-

bling youth, as well as the whole human race in general, has been

taken away. Therefore if we would again raise our children to true,

higher spiritual and inner life, we must hasten to re-awaken in them

this inner life of language, of the contemplation of Xature, and of

discovery. And the way to this is so easy ! We have almost nothing

at all to do but to let the peculiar life of the child live in youth, and

protectingly and fosteringly to remove what might deaden and destroy

it ; but, instead of that, we deaden the germinating life in the child,

and frighten the life striving to uncoil itself from iN'ature, back into

the fixed form, by our rough, lifeless, heartless words, as, for instance

when we say, "Come, dear child, do look at the violet; is it not

pretty ? Break it off, and put it in water, but take care of it ; it

would be a pity to lose it." How wholly different would be the

impression and the results of this sight upon the same childish mind

if we said,— "The blooming violet

Come and see;

I, blooming violet

Delight in thee ";

thus giving words to the child's feeling also. Who can believe that

this is foreign to children, who hears simple and natural, quiet, observ-




ant, and thoughtfully-guided children as, very early, with the simplest

expression of their sensations, and with the pointing out of then- first

perceptions, they so naturally speak in movement-wholes, knowing

and conjecturing nothing of them, though so easily employing them ?

Of course there are not many such children ; but there are some, and

there might be many; for we do not know what we strike dead in

our children, or at least what we allow to starve out unroused and

unnourished.

And yet we finally require that our children who have thus grown

up void of perception and feeling shall at a later time understand

poets andXature. Here, now, is the child of cultivated parents (who

would believe it ? ) called upon to represent before cultivated people

the artificial work of the art of teaching, called "declamation"; yet

see the poor child, vain or trembling, conceited or shame-faced, and

say who is the more to be pitied,— the child, its teacher, the poem

and the poet, or those present.

Section 81.

The simply and naturally-developed child, as well as the boy and

man thus developed, finds himself by means of religion, Nature, and

language, in the midst of all life ; so that he is not even in condition

to retain the mass of facts by themselves, still less with regard to

place and time, and so one and another thing threatens to escape him.

A far richer life develops within him,— a life so rich that his inner

nature is no longer able to grasp the fulness and richness of it, and it

ovei'flows, so that it now comes to him again from without, in its

fulness and by its fulness, as a peculiar, independent, definite second

life as it were ; and he can thus become conscious and is conscious of

it as a definite life. And so it must be ; for now he is driven by the

irresistible, urgent desire and the need (which is inevitably to be

satisfied) to snatch from oblivion the Ijlossoms and fruits of the rich

but easily-vanishing inner life, and the fleeting, transitory outer life

of the form, in respect to the place, the chronological order, and otherthings, and thus to retain them outwardly by means of signs for the

l)enefit of his own life or that of others. Thus writing, script, develop

in each individual again in the general way shown by the history

of the world, and in accordance with the com^se of the general develop-

ment of the human mind, as in general the individual human being

develops according to laws more peculiar indeed, but more in




accordance with those accordmg to which the whole human race has

improved, and humanity has hitherto developed ; and we see at the

same time how, through a predominating, richer outer life, the hiero-

glyphics are necessarily conditioned ; but a predominantly richer inner

life, on the other hand, necessarily conditions the script which conveys

ideas and conceptions, — the letter-scrijjt.

Now the hieroglyphics as well as the letter-script presupposes a

plentiful, rich inner or outer life ; from and by means of this only is

script produced; and up to this time there develops the general need

of it in the child, in every individual human being, only in this way

and so it must be.Therefore, from this point of view also, the care of the parents

and educators is required to make the inner life of their children and

pupils as rich as possible, not so much in respect to the manifoldness

as to the inner significance and activity of life;for without this, and

if the script and the learning to write are not connected with a

certain inner need, the mother-tongue becomes external, lifeless,

foreign, which it now is in a great degree for so many. Yet, if we

only also enter again in particulars into the great necessary path of

humanity, the former great and fresh life of humanity comes back to

us also in and through our children : the qualities and powers of the

spirit, the capacity for penetration and conjecture, now weakened,

will then again appear in their whole fulness and power.

And why should we not earnestly exert ourselves to again enter

on this necessary way, since the boy exerts himself to lead us back

to it ?

For see, here the boy paints into his picture the apple-tree on

which he discovered a nest with young birds, and there the kite

which rose so high in the air. Here sits before me the not yet six-

years-old boy, and draws and paints indej)endently in his book for

free drawing many of the strange creatures he saw yesterday in a

collection of animals.

Who, surrounded by little boys, has not received the entreaty,

" Give me some paper!

I want to wTite a letter to papa, to brother,"

because the boy's inner life urges him to communicate it ? It is not

imitation, for no one was writing ; only he knew in what way he could

satisfy liis actual yearning. The marks he made, though they all

looked pretty much alike, indicated to him the different words which

he actually expressed to the person to whom he wrote by these

marks; and the need of script by which to convey his ideas— the




letter-script— is as evident here as in the former case was that of the

hieroglyphics, or picture-script.

There are, indeed, boys of this age so thoughtful and meditative,

so capable of quietly contemplating within themselves the most

spiritual, that with them, in the same manner shown by the human

race, the need, and, as it were, the discovery, of the letter-script were

to develop ; and how well it is known that larger boys form their own

script ! Yet it will always take place in a similar way, since a certain

need of the boy will absolutely always be connected with all teaching,

with all instruction ; which need must, in a certain respect, have been

inevitably developed previously in the boy before he can be instructedprofitably and with results. In this is a principal cause of a great

deal of the incompleteness of our schools, of the character of our

instruction. We teach and instruct our children without awakened

need for this instruction, even after we have killed that need which

was in the child.

How, then, can instruction and the school advance ?

Section 82.

As certainly as the irresistible ardent desire of an overflowing

inwardness, and the effort to hold fast this fulness, is the foundation

of writing ; and as writing is the fruit of the thinking and thought-

ful, self-observing man, — just as certainly the signs of writing,

as signs for the individual elements of words, are also not arbitrary,

and are certainly in connection with the denoting of conceptions,

and (which may indeed be the same) with the way in which they

are formed.

Little as may still be known of the first fundamental refer-

ences and the first fundamental forms of the written characters,

and blotted out as the laws from which they have proceeded accord-

ing to silently ruling necessary conditions may have been, yet some

remaining fundamental forms of the written character appear still to

show indubitably the inner coherence with the significance of the

element ; thus the O, finished in itself, as a sign of the element for the

conception of that which is completely finished in itself ; thus the S,

striving to run back into itself, as the sign of the element which

denotes the conception of turning back.

Unsought there comes out in the written characters originally

Phoenician, and later Roman, a certain relation between the form of




the character and the pointing-out of the conception of the ele-

ment.

Yet, though that original precise relation between character and

element were no longer actually demonstrable, every glimpse of it

should be held fast for the purpose of instruction ; because absolutely

nothing is to be brought forward to man in a purely arbitrary con-

nection, for which it is not at least possible to discover- an inner

necessary cause : hence the instruction in writing hitherto and at

present given is so lifeless and deadening, so mechanical.

It is highly judicious to connect the first instruction in writing,

the first actual writing, with the old Latin capitals, consisting of

simple and simply compounded lines, and therefore easy to imitate

and retain.

The fruits of repeated application of this course of instruction

show its judiciousness, and its correspondence with boy-nature. This

coui'se of instruction will be further designated, particularly in respect

to its inner principles.

Section 83.

Here is only given the further information that in this way the

reading, as well as the learning to read, again assumes its original and

natural relation to the scholar ; for reading necessarily proceeds from

the need to again make audible to one's self or others that which was

before written, to recall it to one's own memory, and to bring one's

self to clearer consciousness of it, and, as it were, again to arouse it.

By the acts of writing and reading, which must necessarily pre-

suppose a living knowledge of language in a certain breadth, man

raises himself above every other creature that he knows, and approaches

the attainment of his destiny.

By the exercise of these acts, man first becomes a person : so the

effort to learn to write and read makes the pupil a scholar, makes

school for the first time actually possible. The possession of script

conditions and affords to man the possibility of becoming conscious

of future consciousness ; for it conditions for the first time true self-

knowledge, because it makes it possible for man to contemplate him-

self, his nature, placing this nature, as it were, before him ; because

it clearly and surely connects man as present with the past and

future ; it connects him on all sides with the nearest, and certainly

with the farthest.




The script thus affords man the possibility of attaining to the

highest, most complete, earthly perfection.

Writing is the first principal act of independent attainment of

consciousness.

Since, now, writing and reading are so highly important for man,

the boy must also be strong and intelligent enough for them. The

possibility of attaining to consciousness must be already awakened in

him ; the need of writing and reading, the urgent desire, even the

necessity, of being able to do so, must clearly and definitely express

themselves ere he learn to write and read.

The boy who is to learn to write and read in a truly advantageous

way must necessarily be already something, before he seeks to become

conscious of something which he as yet is not ; else all his knowledge

will be hollow, lifeless, void, extraneous, mechanical. For where the

foundation is lifeless and mechanical, how is the activity of life, and

true life the highest prize of all effort, to later develop from it ? how

is man then truly to attain his destiny, his life ?

D. Concerning Art and the Subjects of Art,

Section 84.

If what has been hitherto said about the object and the middle

point, the last point of reference of all human effort, about that which,

even in boyhood, moves the life of man, and makes the poles of boy-

life, is collected under one point of view, there comes out from it

clearly and indubitably the fact that all human effort is threefold,—either an effort for rest and life within, or an effort for the knowledge

and reception of the essence of the outer, or, lastly, an effort for the

direct representation of the inner. The first is predominantly the effort

of religion ; the second, the effort of contemplation of Nature ; and

the third, predominantly the effort for self-representation, self-develop-

ment, and self-contemplation. If what has been hitherto said in the

latter reference is again brought together, it shows that mathematicsrefers more to the inward representation of the external, to the repre-

sentation of the just proportion of the laws resting in the inner nature

of man, and so, as it were, to the representation of ISTature by man

himself ; wherefore, also, mathematics is a connection between Nature

and man. Mathematics, therefore, refers more to the intelligence, and

lays claim to the intellect. Language refei's more to the rejDresenta-



152 EDUCATION" OF MAN.

tion of the perceived and examined inner, and refers predominantly

to the reason, and lays claim to it. But there is now necessarily one

thing still lacking for the complete representation of the nature of

man : this is the representation of the inner life by itself, of direct

sensation, of the mind. And this third, the representation of the

inner nature of man by itself, is art.

Section 85.

All human conceptions, except one, are relative conceptions, can

be strictly applied only relatively;

or, in other words, all conceptionsbear a reciprocal relation to one another, and are necessarily separated

only in their outermost end-points.

Therefore there is also in art again one side where it touches

mathematics,— the intellect ; a second where it touches the Môrld of

language,— the reason; and another where, although a pure repre-

sentation of the inner, it yet appears as one with the representation of

ISTature ; and, finally, there is yet another side, where it coincides w ith

religion

.

Yet here, where it is only a question of the education of man in

general, and of educating him at least to value art, all these references

cannot be taken up for consideration.

Here at this stage art is only viewed in its last unity as a pure

representation of the inner. There now immediately comes out the

fact that the representation by art of what lives within, of w^hat actu-

ally makes up the life of the inner, must appear different on account

of the material with which it is connected as a representation of the

inner.

But this material as an earthly appearance can be only either mere

movement by itself, though audible, but so that the result vanishes in

its origination, — that is, tones ; or the material can be only visible,

the products consisting of the appearance of lines and surfaces as well

as of colors ; or the material can be predominantly perceptible in

space, incorporate— mass. Here also, as in all actual things (since

conceptions are only relatively strict, as has been repeatedly said), are

found innumerable transitions and connections.

Art as a representation by mere tone is music, and predominantly

song. Art as a visible representation by mere colors is XDainting.

Art as a representation in space by the formation of the mass is

moulding.




DraM'ing, which, however, with equal reason can be considered as

the mere representation by lines, may be considered as the miiting

middle point of the two latter ; in which case the drawing then

appears to belong predominantly to representation by lines;painting,

predominantly to representation by surfaces ; and moulding, predomi-

nantly to representation by material, in space.

On account of the just-mentioned connecting property of drawing,

the effort to draw is so early a phenomenon in the development of

man, as we have already seen at the stage of childhood.

But the effort to represent the inner by moulding as well as by

painting expresses itself early in man, even in childhood,but very

unequivocally in the beginning of boyhood.

From this proceeds clearly and unequivocally the perception that

a sense of art is a general jDroperty in man, and must therefore be

early fostered in man, at least from boyhood.

Man wdll, by means of this, be at least fitted to value works of art

(even if the powers of his spirit and life, his activity, be not predomi-

nantly directed toward the side of art, and if he do not therefore him-

self become an artist), and he w'ill, by a true school-training, be surely

placed in position, uncalled himself, and wdthout the true vocation for

art, to set himself up as an artisan.

Song, drawing, painting, and moulding must therefore necessarily

be early considered as a part of the general comprehensive education

and training of man. They must be early treated as actual objects of

the earnest school, and not be exposed to an accidental, worthless and

fruitless, wanton arbitrariness ; neither with the view that each scholar

become an artist in some kind of art, and far less with the view that

each scholar be an artist in all branches of art, both of which nullify

themselves (though one might say the former of each human being in

a certain respect), but with the definite view that each man be raised

to the point of developing his nature faithfully, completely, and on all

sides ; that he raise himself to the point of recognizing the all-sided

and all-powerful nature of man ; but especially, as has been already

stated, that each man understand how" to perceive and to value the

results of genuine art.

Representation in connected speech, like drawing in another respect,

is again a connecting link proceeding from language; but as a repre-

sentation of the inner wôrld, as the poetical representation of the spir-

itual, ethereal inner world, as a quiescent representation of- pure life,

constantly moving and moved, it belongs to art.




In all, in life and in religion, consequently also in art, the ultimate

and highest aim of representation is the clear representation of the

pure man. The Christian art is according to tendency the highest (or

at least it should be, else it ceases to be art and Christian art);for it

strives to represent in all, the eternally abiding, the divine, especially

in and by man. Man is the highest object of the art of man.

Such is now the totality of that ^Yhich is the object, purpose, and

purport of the life of man in general, and which expresses itself, and

makes itself known as such, even in boyhood, at the scholar-stage. As

now what has been hitherto said strove to show the object and pm-port

of the whole tendency of the boy, the object and pui-port of the school,

and of instruction in its ultimate unity and fundamental reference in

accordance with its nature, so the former sought to show the boy in

his free and independent entire life, in the unity of his inner and outer

life, at the scholar-stage. It now remains to demonstrate in what

sequence and connection the strivings of the boy develop in and from

his life at this school-stage ; how and through what instruction, in

what order and form, the school is to work to reach these strivings,

and what it has to do that through it man's striving in general, but

especially this striving at the boy-stage and scholar-stage, may be

satisfied.

4. CONCERNING THE CONNECTION BETWEEN SCHOOL

AND FAMILY, AND THE SUBJECTS OF INSTRUC-

TION CONDITIONED BY THIS CONNECTION.

A. General Contemplation.

Section 86.

The child grows up in the family ; the child becomes a boy and

scholar in the family ; the school nnist therefore connect itself with

the family.

Union of the school and life, union of the domestic or family life

and the life of instruction, is the first and most inseparable require-

ment of the complete development and cultivation of man at this

time, which is to lead us to perfection. LTnion of the family and

school life is the inalienable requirement of the education of man at

this time, when man is at last to rise, and wishes to rise, from the

burden, the emptiness, and the oppression of the outwardly communi-

cated knowledge of conceptions and ideas, and therefore merely life-




less, memorized knowledge, to the life, air, freshness of the knowledge

of the inner aspect and essence of things, to the contemplation and

knowledge of things ;which knowledge continues to develop from

itself like a healthy, fresh tree, like a family and race full of life,

glad in life, and conscious of life, when we at last cease from playing

with signs in word, thought, and action, and from passing through life

masked.

AYould that we might at last, for the welfare of our children and

the blessing of future generations, perceive that we possess a too

great and too oppressive quantity of imj)uted, affixed, heterogeneous,

and therefore foreign knowledge and cultivation, and yet foolishly

strive daily to increase them ; and that, on the other hand, we pos-

sess extremely few knowledges which have developed in us and from

us, which have germinated in our own inner nature, which have grown

forth in it, with it, and by means of it

Would that we might at last cease to boast of extraneous thought,

of extraneous knowledge, even of extraneous sensations and feelings !

AVould that we might actually cease to establish as the greatest glory

of our education, of our teaching, of our schools, and of our instruc-

tion, the adorning of the spirit and mind of our children and scholars

with extraneous erudition, knowledge, and skill ! Would that wê

might cease to think that our aim and the best good of our children

and scholars is reached and attained so much the more in proportion

as they make a parade of this foreign and extraneous erudition, knowl-

edge, and skill, which indeed resemble whited sepulchres

This is, of course, an old disease ; for, if we question and investi-

gate in w^hat way the German nation has attained the fundamentals

of its high present knowledge, we see unequivocally that these funda-

inentals, elements, or principles, always came from without, out of the

far and remote, were directly or indirectly obtruded upon it from with-

out;for which reason we have not even a general equivalent word for

this origin in our mother-tongue.

The strong German mind, the strong German spirit, indeed worked

up that which was foreign, and appropriated it; but its results andcharacter as a foreign one remained abiding.

For a thousand years we have borne these chains ; but shall we

therefore never begin to allow a tree of life to germinate in our own

minds, a tree of knowledge in our own spirits, and bring it by careful

tendance to a beautiful unfolding, that it may freshly and healthily

blossom and bear ripe fruits which sink down in this world to spring

up in the other ?



156 EDUCATION OF IÎAN.

Shall Ave then never cease to stamx^ our children, boys and scholars,

like coins, and to see them parade with foreign labels and foreign effi-

gies, instead of seeing them going about amongst us as an image of

the law of life implanted within them by God, the Father, wdth the

expression of the divine, and as the image of God ?

Do we fear that our children are and will be ashamed of us ?

What race, w^hat people, and w^liat time, is great enough to sacrifice

itself for the sake of its children, and for the representation of pure

humanity?

Indeed what father, what family, will feel the soul filled, and the

power manifoldly ramified, by this thought ?

For from the silent, hidden sanctuary of the family only can the

welfare of the human race, first of all, return to us. With the found-

ing of each new family, the heavenly Father, eternally working for the

welfare of the human race, speaks to man by the heaven which lie has

opened in the heart of the founder of the family, and which issues

repeatedly to the human race, and to each individual man, the call to

represent humanity in pure development, to represent man in genuine

aspect.

It is sufficiently manifest that our German mind and spirit can no

longer endure the hitherto lifeless and extraneous knowledge and

insight obtained by learning ; that a merely external, polished culti-

vation can no longer suffice if we wish to be independent children,

worthy of God. Therefore we need and seek knowledges germinated

in our minds and spirits, freshly and healthily developed and

strengthened, and increased by the sun of life, and in the condi-

tions of life.

Will we now cover anew with rubbish the spring of life which

God has made to well forth in the mind and spirit of man, of each

man, in our own mind and spirit ? Will we rob ourselves, and our

pupils and scholars, of the inexpressible joy of having the fount of

eternal life in their minds and spirits?

Will you parents, and you who take the place of parents, educa-

tors and teachers, continue to constrain your children to chokein

with rubbish the fount of life within them, and hedge it in with

briers ?

You answer, " Only thus prepared do they make their way in the

world. Children soon grow up ;who then will support them ? What

shall they eat? W^hat shall they drink? With what shall they be

clothed ?"



MAN AS A SCHOLAH. 157

Yon are not to receive the answer, " Seek ye first," etc. ; for yon

conid not talve in and understand that in your estrangement from God

and from yourself; but it will be repeatedly said to you, "Does

success in life depend on a stupid, stupefying life, void of knowledge,

work, and action ?"

The human race is to enjoy knowledges and conceptions; it is

to possess a power of work and action which you, which we, do not

now anticipate ; for who has measured the limits of humanity born

of God? But these knowledges, etc., are to grow out in the freshness

and vigor of youth, as developments from each individual, as newly-

created self-productions.

The boy will not carry on his future business, his calling, lazily,

negligently, and gloomily, but joyously and serenely, confiding in

God, himself, and Nature, and enjoying a manifold blessing and

success in his business. Peace, temperance, and all the high virtues of

a citizen and a man, will dwell in his inner nature, as well as in his

house, and he will feel himself satisfied in and by his sphere, in the

efficiency of his sphere,— the high prize toward which we all strain.

He will neither say, "My son shall carry on any other business

rather than that which I have, for it is the most displeasing of all";

nor will he insist that his son shall engage in and carry on the

business which he himself carries on with profit and advantage,

because it suits his own individuality. He will perceive that each

man may conduct the smallest business grandly; that each business

may be so ennobled that it is not unworthy for the man to engage in

he will recognize and perceive that the smallest power rightly applied

to a work, with pleasure in and liking for it, may procure for man,

bread, clothing, shelter, even esteem ; and he will therefore be

without care for the future of the children, to unfold whose inner

nature was his highest care.

Section 87.

As the individual directions of this united school and family life,

of this active life of instruction and education, there necessarily

proceed from the inner and outer requirements of the boy as a

beginning scholar, the following :—

The vivification, nourishing, strengthening, and cultivation of the

religious sense,— keeping the mind of man in union with God, and

always actively uniting it with God, — the sense which divines and



158 EDUCATION OF :man.

holds fast the living necessary unity of all things with all their

difference of appearance, and which by its activity and powerfulness

makes the boy live and act in accordance with this unity.

In conformity to this, and with this object.

Appropriations of religions expressions, particularly concerning

Mature, man, and the relation of both to God, especially for prajêr, as

a mirror in which the boy sees his original feelings, sensations, antici-

pations and strivings which unite him with God, and thus brings

them to his own knowledge, and holds them fast

Respect for, knowledge and cultivation of the body, as the bearer

of the spirit, and the means of representing the nature of the spirit in

exercises arranged to lead by degTees to such a cultivation of the body

Contemplation and consideration of Xature and the outside world

connecting with and proceeding from the near, requiring knowledge

of nearest surroundings before an advance is made to the remote and

far:

Appropriations of little poetical representations comprising Nature

and life ; especially appropriation of little rhymes which give signifi-

cance to the objects of surrounding Nature, life, the phenomena andoccurrences of the scholar's own domestic life, which show them in

their pure and deep significance as in a clear mirror ; and this espe-

cially for singing and by song :

Exercises in language and speech, proceeding from, and connected

with, the contemplation of Nature and the outer world, and passing

to a contemplation of an inner world, but always having distinctly

and strictly in view language and speech only as audible means of

representation

Exercises in outward corporeal representations in space, according

to rule and law, advancing from the simple to the compound. Here

belong representations generally by more or less formed material—building and handiwork in general, for formation

;paper, cardboard,

woodwork, etc., as well as, lastly and especially, moulding from

unformed or formable soft material

Exercises for the representation by lines on a surface (in and bymeans of constant, outwardly expressed visible reference to the

vertical and horizontal directions suggested by the middle and breast

line of man) ; which are the means of perception and comprehension

of all outward forms, and which appear several times repeated by the

side of and across one another, forming network ; therefore drawing

in net according to outward necessary law




Comprehension of the colors in their difference and resemblance,

and representation of them in already-formed snrface-spaces with

predominating notice of forms already made;

Painting pictures in outline :

Or with predominating notice of colors and their relations

Painting in net, in squares :

Play ; that is, freely active representations and exercises of every

kind

Relation of stories and sayings, fables and fairy-stories connected

with the occurrences of the day, time, and life, etc.

All this

nowis shared between the domestic

andschool life,

between the family life and the general human life, between home

and school occupations.

For boys of this age should already have certain small domestic

occupations ; indeed they could be actually instructed while engaged

in them, especially by mechanics and farmers, as is done, as has been

already done, and accomplished by many a father, simple indeed, but

guided by an active and strong sense of Xature. Boys of somewhat

advanced age should often be placed in position, by parents and

educators, to accomplish something with their own hands and their

own judgment, and parents and educators need only be careful that

self-examinations and firmness of judgment come to the boys by these

means. It is very important, especially for boys of an advanced age,

to devote daily at least one or two hours, with complete and firm

determination, to an outward occupation, to an occupation for out-

ward results. Effects of the greatest importance for life would

proceed from this, as it is certainly one of the greatest injuries of

our now existing school-arrangements, especially the so-called Latin

and normal schools, that the boy who enters these schools is wholly

removed from all domestic emplojnnent, all employment for the

purpose of bringing out an outward result. Do not answer, "A boy

must at this time, if he is to bring his knowledge to a definite stage

and completeness, direct all his power to the point of learning words,

of acquiring knowledge by means of words, of intellectual cultivation."

Not at all; genuine experience teaches the contrary. Intellectual

employment and intervening outward more corporeal employment,

activity in outward productive work and result, strengthen not only

the body, but quite predominantly also the spirit, the different direc-

tions of the activity of the spirit ; so that the spirit after such a

refreshing wôrk-bath (I cannot better designate it) goes with new

vigor and new^ life to its intellectual employment.




If we now consider the subjects of united family and school life

before cited, they group themselves according to the total require-

ments of the boy into subjects,—of the more tranquil, quiet inner life,

of the more receptive life working within, and

of the more outwardly-forming life working outwardly

hence they also generally satisfy the need of man.

Further : we see, by means of these subjects of instruction, all the

senses, all the inner and outer qualities and powers of man, devel-

oped, exercised, and cultivated, and thus the requirements of human

relations and of the relations of life fulfilled.

Finally, we see how the requirements of all these subjects, numer-

ous and comprehensive as they appear, are all easily fulfilled by a

simply arranged family life and life of instruction, by a united home

and school life, and consequently necessarily satisfy the requirements

of man at this stage.

Let us now view this in particulars.

B. Particular Consideration of the Individual Subjects of Instruction.

«.

vivification and cultivation of the religious sense.

Section 88.

If child and parents have grown up in union of life and mind, this

union will certainly not only remain undiminished, through the whole

time of boyhood, and yet longer, if new obstructing and disturbing-

causes do not come in between to separate them, but will become

so much the more confirmed and vivified as the boy advances in age.

The question here is not of that hollow indefinite union of feeling

which, as it were, makes one of two bodies, such as is found between

parents and child ; but of that union of active minds and clear spirits

which shows life in its effects and phenomena as a whole.This union of active minds and clear spirits, not the union which

is perhaps at most only outward community of life, is the firm basis

and foundation of genuine religiousness.

The inner life, the clear representation of the inner spiritual life

of man, is common to this union of spirit between parents and child,

between parents and boy.




What it was not possible, and is not now possible, for the father

and mother to represent in themselves and by themselves, on account

of hindering influences, they now seek to obtain in and by their son

both in childhood and boyhood ; viz., representation of pure humanity

in and by itself.

The clear and sure experiences of the development, improvement,

and continuous cultivation of his inner life, which the father bought

dearly, often painfully and only with diminishing power, but for that

reason can no longer apply in his own life, he commmiicates to his

son, and the son uses these experiences (although foreign to his own

outward experience, but vivifying and confirming themselves in his

inner nature), and applies them with the yet undisturbed and unweak-

ened vigor and freshness of youth.

But all communications of parents to their son are lifeless and

without effect where their life was not from an early period a con-

stant, unbroken whole ; for two apparently different worlds, and the

experiences of these two worlds, are opposed to one another with

different requirements and different powers, for which the resembling-

connection is wanting.

But, on the other hand, he only who has tried to establish this fact

can divine and measure what fruits proceed from that union of spirit

between parents and child, between father and son, which has for its

common ground and aim the cultivation and representation of the

highest and purest of the pure human entity.

From the consideration of the individual and joint life in respect

to its inner ground and aim, but especially in respect to its inner and

necessary living coherence^ necessarily conditioning such a union of

spirit, there now proceed, for the mind and inner perception of man

even in boyhood, the most unequivocal proofs and convictions that

God, to speak humanly (as we can in general speak in no other way

of the Divine, or at least in no other comprehensible effective way),

still uninterruptedly guides humanity in and toward its development,

improvement, and representation by his fatherly guardianship and

care, and constantly also accompanies each individual as an essential

part of the whole in all the occurrences of his life with fatherly,

loving protection and help.

For how could man otherwise or more comprehensibly mark the

knowledge that the occurrences of life, truly recognized in their cause,

nature, and significance, and made use of in conformity to this recog-

nition, are always for the advantage of the individual, and of the

whole ?




These truths being confirmed in one's own life and the lives of

'others, in individual and mutual life, in the life of man and of

Nature, by experience and revelation, it must necessarily more and

more clear and purify the boy's sense, heighten and increase his

power, and confirm his courage and endurance, to find the union and

unity of the revelations of Holy Writ, of mind, and of Xature, and

thus to recognize himself as a part of a whole and totality which

develops more and more widely before the eyes and the inner sense

of the boy from the small parental and domestic sphere, and whose

common eft'ort,^ amidst the most speaking proofs of divine guidance,

help, and blessing, is to represent the spiritual in and by the cor-

poreal, the divine in and by and through the human.

The life of such a family, of such a boy, will necessarily be a life

expressing in action and in jproduction the prayer of Jesus ; a life of

trust in God, of love for God and man, of voluntary childlike obedi-

ence to God ; a life in this sense always active and efficient, a Christ-

like life, will again express itself in such a boy ; and so it will be

possible for him to understand the teachings and requirements of

Jesus in his own life, and by his own life, and so to apply them to his

own life, and to live in accordance with them.

A further religious instruction resting on such a spiritual and

childlike union of spirit has a firm foundation; such an instruction

only is fruitful and rich in blessing; and it is fruitful and rich in

blessing only in the measure in which a vivid sense and clear view of

inner spiritual life is early awakened in the boy by favorable relations

of life.

There is no danger that any subject of inner spiritual life will be

too high and too incomprehensible in its nature for the inner spiritual

sense of the boy ; only let the facts be simply given and expressed to

him, and his inner power will easily find the inner sense of them in the

ways of perception and representation accessible to him. We now

rely too little on the religious, and in general too little on the spiritual

power of the sense and mind of the boy in early boyhood. Conse-

quently the life and mind of the boy at a later period shows itself so

empty, so without experience in reference to spiritual and purely

human, moral, and religious perceptions, and therefore so ossified and

lifeless, that very few and only weak fibres are found in him for con-

nection with and instruction concerning a genuine religious life; and

1 That is, the common effort of the whole above referred to.— Translator.




yet such a life is now so much required in the following age by-

boy and youth.

Children are early awakened to and taught concerning a mass of

externalities which they cannot understand, just because this mass is

strange and external to them, and they remain unroused in reference

to many inner things, untaught concerning so many, in fact almost

all, inner things which yet they might understand within themselves.

So cliildren are early introduced into the strange outer life, and, on

the other hand, are estranged from the inner life ; for which reason

their inner life is so hollow and withered.

If

manis to understand many truths, especially religious truths,

hemust be made to experience much, that is, to become conscious of the

events, perhaps small in themselves, of his religious life, of the course

of his spiritual development and of its limitations.

Man must rise from the anticipation and knowledge of God as a

father in his oiun life, to the anticipation and knowledge of God as

the Father of all men and of all beings; else the future religious

instruction is void and fruitless.

]Many, very many religious errors and misconstructions, many not

genuine and half-truths drop off by such an early observation of, or

at least by unobstructed and undisturbed surrender to, the develop-

ment of the inner spiritual life in harmony with the outer life and in

reference to it. By such an observation and surrender would be also

avoided the misunderstood prominence given to certain expressions of

definite religious teaching, which in this one-sided presentation have

exactly the contrary effect in and on the life of man which they were

intended to have, as, for instance, the so common saying, " If you are

good, you will be happy," which is brought forward in religious

instruction in general with detriment to the life, the happiness, the

satisfaction, and the constantly vigorously striving mind of man.

To the simple boy who is still deficient in outward experience,

who still feels and finds his life an undivided whole, inner and outer

good, inner and outer happiness, inner and outer life, are still undi-

vided, still differing but little from one another;

and so, without adoubt, without a conjecture that it could be otherwise, the inner, clear,

pure life of the mind is also necessarily placed as an outei- one; so the

inner fruits of being good are also outwardly demanded and expected.

But inner and outer, infinite and finite, are two woi'lds whose

phenomena, compared according to their form, are outwardly entirely

different, and must be different. Therefore that common saying, if it




does not very early disturb and weaken the inner peace, the inner

strength, of the boy, yet must necessarily fill him with false expecta-

tions from life, must lead him to wholly false judgment, understanding,

and use of the events of his life, to very important mistakes in life.

Definite religious teaching should rather present, demonstrate to

the boy in his own life and the life of all, and make perceptible in all

development in Xature and humanity, the saying that he who truly

desires the pure representation of humanity with earnestness, effort,

and devotion, must necessarily live in outward oppression, in outward

pain and need, in outward care and sorrow, in outward want and

trouble and poverty ; for the demand of that effort is, that the inner

spiritual true life should reveal, manifest, and represent itself. If

this now takes place, the result must necessarily and unavoidably be

as above stated.

That they may have a vivid recognition and conception of this, let

the boys view the requirements and limitations, the phenomena, of

the development of a tree, in comparison with the necessary require-

ments and limitations, the phenomena, of the spiritual development

of the man.Each stage of development attained, though so beautiful and

symmetrical in its place, must vanish and pass away, must be abso-

lutely destroyed, if a higher stage of development and improvement

is to appear : the protecting warming scales must fall off, if the young

twig, thokfragrant blossom, is to unfold, although the tender twig, the

delicate blossom, may be and often is exposed to the still iuclement

spring weather. The fragrant blossom must fall off to give place to a

fruit at first insignificant, sour, and bitter. The delicious red-cheeked

fruit so refreshing to man must fall and decay, so that the young

plant and tree may germinate in youthful freshness.

Thus the psalms of David and the songs of those who battle for

the attainment of the greatness of man, of the representation of pure

humanity, resemble the fruits of their tree of life, which could abso-

lutely appear only by the passing away of many of the earlier

developments of life, dear and precious to them, to give place to later,

higher, and nobler ones.

And do not the expressions of those psalms, songs, etc., resemble

kernels which, sown again in the fruitful soil of the mind of man,

bear shady trees full of fragrant blossoms and strength-giving, eternal,

immortal fruits?

Therefore the condition of the highest development is to renounce,

to dispense with, to let drop, the outer in order to gain the inner.




With this, renunciation, etc. wholly harmonizes the expression

coming from the other side of the contemplation, "The dearer the

child, the sharper the rod," or " Whom the Lord loveth he chasten-

eth " ; and this truth will reach the mind of any boy not wholly

estranged. The man thus led, conscious of his honest effort, will not

now surlily complain, like a refractory child, about the adverse occm'-

rences in his life ; he will not say, " Why am I so unfortunate ? I

have done nothing wicked ; at least I am conscious of nothing wicked.

That other man, who is known to be wicked and evil, or is at least

known to act according to merely outward view and judgment, on

transitory and untenable grounds, is yet so fortunate." He will

rather say to himself, "Just because you earnestly and firmly strive

only for the highest and best, only for the abiding good, all merely

relative apparent good must fall, that higher and more complete;

developments, and finally more abiding fruits, may come forth." i

Xot less injurious, and extremely hindering to the attainment of

the aim given to man, is the frequently prevailing prominence given

in religious teaching and religious instruction to the reward of good

deeds and actions in the world to come, when they seem to be unre-

warded here. This future reward has no effect on still rude minds

with whom the sensuous enjoyments stand highest; boys and men

with only natural good sense do not need it ; for if our deeds are

good, if our conduct is pure, and if our actions are right, a reward in

the other world will not be needed, even though in this all is lacking

which the sensuous man considers valuable.

It shows but a slight knowledge of the nature, and but a slight

esteem for the worth, of man, when prominence must be given to the

inducement of reward in the other world to raise man to a mode of

action worthy of his nature, his calling, and his destiny. Man can (if

it be only early made possible for him to be a genuine man) and is,

therefore, to be led to feel his worth and his nature at each instant,

and the feeling, the consciousness, of having lived and acted in accord-

ance with and faithful to his nature, must be his highest reward,

without needing, still less requiring, another outward reward. Ordoes the good child, in the instant when he has within himself the

consciousness of having acted as a child worthy of his father, in the

spirit and according to the will of his father, need and demand any

thing more than the joy of this consciousness ?

Does a simple, natural child, when acting rightly, think of any

other reward which he might receive for his action than this con-

sciousness, though that reward be only praise ?




Shall not man act as purely and excellently toward God as the

earthly son toward his earthly father ?

And does not Jesus himself say, " My meat is to do the will of

Him who sent me," that is, " The consciousness of doing the will of

my Father maintains, heightens, and rejoices my life"? and does he

not consider the poor already blessed on account of the heightened

efficiency of the powers of the soul, and a conduct in accordance

with it?

How we degrade and lower the human nature which we should

raise, how we weaken those whom we should strengthen, when we

hold up to them an inducement to act virtuously,even though we

place this inducement in another world ! If we employ an outward

incentive, though it be the most spiritual, to call forth better life, and

leave undeveloped the inner, spontaneous, and independent power of

representing pure humanity which rests in each man, we degrade our

human nature.

But how wholly different every thing is, if man, especially in boy-

hood, is made to observe the reflex action of his conduct, not on his

outward more or less agreeable position, but on his inner, spontane-

ous or fettered, clear or clouded, satisfied or dissatisfied condition of

spirit and mind ! The experiences which proceed from this observa-

tion will necessarily more and more awaken the inner sense of man;

and then true sense, the greatest treasure of boy and man, comes into

his life.

The future religious instruction will enlighten and illuminate

these experiences, will bring them to consciousness, will unite and

unify them, will draw from them the truths self-proceeding and thus

resting in and confirming themselves, will show the application of

these truths and the living in accordance with them in different stages

of gradation everywhere where power, life, and spirit work, and will

group them with the truths recognized and expressed by the enlightened

man, by the man moved by the spirit of God. Thus genuine religious-

ness will be the eternal, hereditary portion of this man (and at last,

by degrees, of the whole human race), and all the elevation alreadyshown by humanity, and expressed in and by humanity, will also

repeat itself in him. And the religious training of the individual,

blessing the individual and the world, comes thus more into harmony

with the course of the religious element in humanity, by which means

every fallacy and doubt, every arbitrariness, disappears of itself, and

there remains to us only the blessed and blessing consciousness that

in God we live, and move, and have our being.




Appropriation of Relifjious Expressions.

Section 89.

It is certain that religious feelings, sensations, and thoughts well

up and germinate in the human mind and spirit, doubtless because

man is man ; and so also in the boy who has grown up in union of

spirits with his parents, and has not become estranged. But now

these sensations and feelings in their beginning, make themselves

known to man, and in the mind of man and boy only as an effect, a

sensation, a fulness without word and without form, generally without

the expression of that which they are,— only as elevating life, and as

filling the mind. It is at this stage extremely beneficial, strength-

ening, and elevating for man, for the mind of the boy, that these

sensations and feelings should be put into words, so that they may

not moulder away, and, formless and speechless, be absorbed into

themselves, pressed down, and destroyed.

AVe need not fear that with strange words, a strange feeling will

be introduced to and stamped upon the boys. The religious element

has the peculiarity of pure air, clear sunlight, and pure water,— every

earthly being absorbs it, and in each it forms itself into another form,

figure and color ; in each it produces differing expressions of life.

Take a simple religious expression which each boy can understand

by and in his own life ; let six, twelve, or more boys appropriate it,

and it will sproiit out on the life-tree of each as a shoot peculiarly

belonging to each

But of course the words must touch life in the boy. AVith the

child the requirement to give life, form, and significance to words,

must not be made, but the words must give language to the life and

forms already existing in the mind of the boy ; and this life and these

forms must thus obtain significance through the words.

So a boy scarcely six years old, each evening begged one of his

foster-parents who was taking him to bed, " Teach me a little

prayer

;''

and having said the prayer he fell asleep quietly. One daysomething occurred which showed him not to be quite serene in his

inner nature. The little prayer in the evening commenced as usual

strongly and clearly he repeated it ; but a slight turn in it pointed to

the occurrence of the day, and suddenly voice and word were hushed,

so as to be scarcely audible;but certainly the inner nature spoke only

the more loudly. Yesterday he said to me for the first time on going




to bed, " Pray the little prayer with me "; a sign to me that there

must be something which lay on his conscience. I suited the prayer

to what I believed to be his need, and he slept quietly.

Shortly after, the same boy came to me and brought a pictm-e he

had just found. He was delighted with it as it was painted in bright

colors. But at the moment he was about to show it to me, there

came up a boy about one year and a half older, very lively, and appar-

ently one who gave little attention to the inner life. " That is cruel,"

said he, looking at the picture, which represented the treatment of

the Greeks, especially of the women and children, by the Turks.

The children were told how much cause all who enjoyed an unperse-cuted, much more a faithfully fostered life had to thank God for it.

" As we do morning and evening," quickly interrupted the livelier

boy, although no particularly explanatory word had been said to him

about it.

From which we infer that it is neither necessary nor advisable to

make, with younger boys, a too frequent change in the expressions

which give language and significance to the inner life.

respect for, knowledge and cultivation of the body.

Section 90.

Man esteems that alone which he not only knows in respect to its

value, significance, and use, but which he can also apply and use, and

concerning which he knows that on its good qualities, and therefore

on the maintenance of these, depends the attainment of the work and

aim for which he strives. We do not at all believe that man, especially

in boyhood, knows his body because it is so near to him, still less that

he knows how to use his limbs because they are one with his body.

" Do not carry yourself so awkwardly," we hear frequently said to

boys, especially in stations of life in which all-sided corporeal activity

does not belong to the order of the day in childhood and early boyhood.

We see that men with whom spiritual and corporeal cultivation do

not keep pace, and reciprocally limit each other, at certain times and

under certain circumstances do not at all know what they shall do

with their bodies and limbs. Indeed to how many a one does not his

own body appear as a burden ! how many a one does not feel his

limbs as such




"Now an occasional cnltivation of the body by bodily activity at

home can help many. But since, in abnost all cases, this cultivation

is very subordinate, and in most is applied only in a one-sided man-

ner;and since man must become conscious, not merely of his powers,

but also of the means of using them,— only an all-sided cultivation

of the body, and of all parts of the body, as the means and expression

of spiritual training, can lead him to this consciousness. This idea is

expressed even in the simplest instruction where the use and position

of body and limbs is essential, for instance, in writing, drawing, learn-

ing the use of musical instruments, etc.

If the scholar has in such cases received no true all-sided cultiva-

tion in the use of his body and limbs, and if this use of body and

limbs has not been exercised to the point of becoming an abiding

quality, a course of training and breaking in, deadening alike to

teacher and scholar, can only lead to a poor aim ; and the continual,

" Sit up straight," " Hold your arm right," drives all life and success

out of the instruction.

But active, vigorous bodies in all positions and for all employ-

ments of life and calling, dignified carriage and deportment, is but

one effect of all-sided cultivation of the body as the bearer of the

spirit. A great deal of so-called unmannerliness, rudeness, and impro-

priety, would vanish, especially in boyhood ; and we should not so

often have to say and hear, " Do not be so unmannerly," " Do not be

so rude in your expressions," " Stand properly," if we gave our chil-

dren legitimate bodily exercises, advancing from the simple to the

complex, claiming and cultivating man on all sides ; that is, bodily

exercises in accordance with the cultivation of the spirit, referring to

and conditioned by this cultivation.

The will as such does not yet govern the body at every instant

the body must therefore be fitted at every instant to obey the demands

of the spirit, as he who plays upon a musical instrument plainly

shows.

Therefore, without such a training of the body, there is no educa-

cation leading to the perfection and the complete cultivation of man.Hence the body in this respect, as well as the spirit, must go through

a true school ; and bodily exercises must be strictly carried on,

advancing from the simple to the complex, and referring to the

spiritual in man, as an object in each school ; for they lead to true

breeding. Breeding is to bring the boy back strictly and fii-mly in

all his actions to the worth of man, which has become perceptible to,




and is felt by him ; to the highest esteem for his nature which flows

from tnis perception ; that is, to let the worth of man, and esteem for

his natm'e, be prominent, and express themselves in all his actions.

This is the positive element in his education at this age; and the

more vividly and plainly the boy and scholar divines and perceives the

nature and the worth of man, the more clearly, simply, comprehen-

sively, and necessarily do the requirements which proceed from the

whole nature of man express themselves to him, so much the more

earnestly and firmly must the educator insist on the fulfilment of

these requirements. Indeed, if it should be necessary, he ought not

hesitate to proceed from admonition to punishment, to severity-, for

the sake of the welfare of the pupils. The scholar time, the boy time,

is the time for breeding. Only the cultivation of spirit and body in

unison and accord makes true breeding possible.

Besides, the body also, or we might just as well say the mind

demands, after a laborious activity of the latter, a strictly methodized

laborious activity of body, and this strict bodily activity thus method-

ized exerts again a strengthening reflex influence on the mind. There

is true life, therefore, only where bodily and spiritual activity stand

in methodized, active, reciprocal connection.

But the bodily exercises have still another important side : it is

this,—that they lead the boy at a later time to the vivid recognition of

the internal construction of his body ; for here especially the boy feels

vividly the inner, reciprocal, active connection of all the parts of his

body. These perceptions, connected with only measurably good picto-

rial representations of the internal construction of the human being,

must necessarily cause, at least must induce an active participation in'

the above-mentioned vivid recognition of and insight into the construc-

tion of the human body and the attention to, and tendance of it,

dependent on this recognition and insight.

contemplation of nature and of the outside world.

Section 91.

AVhat was before done in this respect in childhood was isolated,

and so without special coherence ; but now it appears arranged as

much as possible in inner, necessary coherence suited to the course of

man's development at this stage, and so, soon again ramifying and




dividing, as the special and individual always proceeds from the

general and whole.

The recognition of each thing, of each being, of its destination and

properties, proceeds everywhere most precisely and clearly from the

local references and relations of objects in which the things stand,

and expresses itself most loudly and clearly in such references and

relations ; therefore the boy and scholar is necessarily brought to tlie

clearest insight into the nature of objects, of Xature, and of the out-

side world in general, when the things are brought before him, and

recognized by him, in the natural connection in which they stand.

Further : the relations and proportions of objects, and their signifi-

cations, are naturally the plainest and clearest to the boy where he

sees himself most impressively and constantly surrounded by them

and their effects ; where, perhaps, the cause of their existence lies in

himself, or at least proceeds from and relates to him.

These are the objects most closely surrounding him,— the objects

in the room, in the house, in the garden, the yard, the village (the

city), the meadow, the field, the wood, the plain. From the room, his

nearest surrounding, this arranged and arranging contemplation of

Nature and the outside world proceeds, ]3assing from what is near

and familiar to what is farther off and unfamiliar ; and, on account

of this order, this summing-up and dividing now appears as an actual

school-subject.

The course of teaching is as follows. The instruction again begins

with the pointing-out of the object, which has before been recognized

as necessary. Thus, for example, pointing to the table,

"What is that?"

pointing to the chair,—. "What is that?" and so on.

Now the summing-up question,

" What do you see here in the room ?"

" The table, the chair, the bench, the window, the door, the flower-

pot," and so on.

The teacher writes down upon the slate the objects named by oneor more children, and then repeats them in concert with the scholars.

The teacher further questions :—

" Do the tables and chairs stand in the same relation to the room

as the window and door ?"

"Yes."— "No."

" Why yes ? "— " Why no ?"




" Now what are window and door in relation to the room ?"

" Parts of the room."

" Tell me all of the parts of the room you know."

" The walls, the ceiling, the floor, and so on. All these are parts

of the room."

"As the door, the window, are each a part of the room, is the

room itself a part of any greater whole ?"

" Yes : of the house."

" What else are parts of the house ?"

"The house-floor, the chamber, the kitchen, the staircase," and

so on.After the scholars have named all the parts of the house, teacher

and scholars repeat together, as usual,—" The house-floor, parlor, chamber, kitchen, staircase, garret, cellar,"

and so on, " are parts of the house."

The recitation in concert, by all the scholars, of what has been

before said is highly important as an exercise of perception, concep-

tion, designation, and readiness of speech.

" Have all houses the same parts which this house has ? "

"N'o."

" What parts has this house which other houses have not ?"

" What parts have other houses which this house has not ?"

" By what are the most essential parts of a house conditioned and

determined ?"

"By the use of the house or building, and what it is meant for.

"What are the most essential parts which each dwelling-house

must have to be called a complete dwelling-house ?"

" Besides the objects which are parts of this room, you named

others which are not parts of the room, but which you see in the

room • name to me again several of these."

"Chairs, tables, flower-pots, paintings, engravings, books," and

so on.

"Do chairs, tables, and benches have the same relation to the

room which paintings, flower-pots, books, and such things do?

"Xo."

"AVhy?"

" Now, what are benches, tables, and such things in relation to the

room ?"

" They are necessary to it ; they belong to it."

" All the objects which belong to a room are called the furniture

of the room."



MAN AS A SCHOLAR. 17^

" Tell nie all the objects which you know to be the furniture of

the room."

" Has each of the other spaces in the house objects which belong

to it?"

" Yes : the kitchen, the chamber," etc.

"What objects belong in the kitchen, in the chamber?" etc.

" These objects are called kitchen-furniture, chamber-furniture,"

etc.

"But are there not also in a house pieces of furniture which do

not belong exclusively to any single space or room?"

« Yes : this, this."

" Such things, as well as all the furniture that belongs in a house,

are called house-furniture."

" Tell me all the house-furniture you know."

" The house has its particular parts, rooms, and spaces ; but is not

the house again the part of a greater whole ?"

" Yes : of the premises."

" What objects belong to the premises ?"

" The yard, the garden, the house, the wash-house, the barn," etc.

"AVhat kind of objects are in the yard, and belong to it?"

" The movable objects which belong to the yard are called yard-

furniture."

"What belongs in the garden, and is used for garden-work?"

" All the movable objects which belong in the garden, and are

used for garden-work, are called garden-furniture."

Etc., etc.

" All the furniture which belongs to the yard, to the garden, to

the barn, to the wash-house, is called domestic-furniture."

" As the house and yard are each a part of the premises, are the

premises a part of any greater whole ?"

" Yes : of the village."

"What do you see in the village which belongs to it? which

together form the village ?"

"•Houses, wash-houses, gardens, yards, churches, schoolhouses,

parsonages, the common, the public hall, the smithy, wells," etc.

"What have the houses of the village in common in respect to

their occupants, or peculiar to some of them ?"

" They are either farmers', mechanics', or laborers' houses."

" What is the peculiarity of the farmhouses ?"

" What is essential to a mechanic ?"





MAN AS A SCHOLAR, 175

subject so wholly lives in him, that its requirements and its nature

express themselves directly m his mind and spirit, he, as it were,

perceiving them directly within himself. But if the instant when the

new twig of any subject of instruction desires to shoot forth is allowed

to pass by unnoticed, each later or earlier, consequently arbitrary,

introduction and reception of the subject of instruction (which is yet

recognized as necessary) is always a lifeless one, and, though there is

nothing to be said against the necessity of the subject of instruction,

it yet appears as an adjunct, and works only as such

.

Every teacher striving with genuine love and faith, after a spirited

instruction in accordance with the laws of Nature and reason, willcertainly experience this fact often and painfully, if in a conceited,

dogmatic, gloomy, or dull mood, he has overlooked the moment of

sprouting.

He will exert himself without result ; his course of instruction will

be automatic, and, like a rattle, empty and lifeless.

Therefore, certainly, this observation of the instant in which, and

the place at which, a new subject of instruction makes its appearance

as a new ramification, is most important to a spirited, life-giving, and

life-awakening instruction.

The nature of a life-awakening and developing instruction in

accordance with the laws of Nature and reason, consists mostly in

discovering and holding fast this point ; for, if it is truly found, the

subject of instruction goes on developing independently according to

its oMii abiding active law, like every other life-whole, and thus, in a

very real sense, teaches the teacher himself.

Therefore all the teacher's attention must be directed to this

sprouting-point of the ramification of instruction, lest it slip by.

The neglect of this requirement, and the results of this neglect,

will mark the manner of instruction and the course of teaching not in

accordance with the laws of Nature, a manner and coui'se which

destroy themselves.

We return, after this interpolation, to the course of teaching the

boy to comprehend the outer world.

" In the surrounding country you saw trees, towers, rocks, springs,

walls, forests, and villages ; look at all these and at all the other

objects in sight, and see whether each of these things is the only one

of its kind, or whether several can be grouped together as being of

like kinds."




" Several things belong together as bemg of like kinds."

" Xame several things which you think belong together as being

of like kinds."

"When you compare with one another the numerous things in sight

which belong together, do they show a fundamental difference?"

" Yes : some things are made by man, and some by Nature."

" The first are called works of man ; the second, ivo7^ks of Nature,

or natural objects."

" Find out several works of Nature which are in sight, and which

you know."

" Trees, fields, meadows, grass, brooks, ditches," etc.

" Find out several works of man which are in sight, and which

you know."

" Walls, fences, hedges, paths, arbors, vineyards," etc.

" Can fields and meadows be called pure works of Nature ?"

"Yes." — "No."


" Can arbors, hedges, vineyards, and the like be called pure works

of man?"" No."

"Why no?"

" Such objects as arbors, vineyards, fields, meadows, and improved

fruit-trees, are called works of Nature and man.'"

"Mention several works of Nature and man in your neighborhood."

(Repetition in concert by teacher and scholars, as always.)

" Find several natural objects within your range of vision, examine

them closely, compare them with one another, and see if you perceive

any further separating or uniting fundamental and principal differ-

ences among them ; for example, —the tree,

the rock,

the stone,

the river,

the bird,the oak,

the deer,

the fir,

the thunder,

the lightning,

the air."




" They show separating and uniting differences."

" Good. What differences ?"

"Deer, bug, cow, bird, snail, are animals."

" Pine, oak, moss, grass, are vegetables, plants."

"Air, water, stone, rock, are minerals."

" Rain, thunder, lightning, are natural phenomena."

"Mention all the animals with which you are familiar in your

neighborhood."

"Name the plaiits."

" Then the minerals."

"Finally, name the natural 2:>henomena."" Now consider the animals in respect to the place in which they

live."

" Are they born, do they live and feed, in places of the same kind,

or of different kinds ?"

"In places of different kinds. They live either in the house, the

yard, the premises, or in the open air; and then

in the field, on the plain, or in the wood;

on the land or in the ivater

in the air or in other things."

" Animals which live in the house, belong to the house, and which

keep principally to men and their dwellings, are called house-animals."

"Animals which live principally on the plain are called plain-

animals."

" Animals which live principally in the woods are called icood-

animals."

" Animals can also be classed as land-animals, loater-animals, animals

which live in both air and water (amphibia), air-animals," etc.

As the animals were considered in respect to the place in which

they principally live, the plants and vegetable groivths should be

carried through by the teacher, as house-plants, greenhouse and hot-

house plants, as room, garden, field, meadow, wood, loater, sioamp, and

parasitic vegetable growths.

The minerals are carried through in the same way, though they

offer fewer differences in this respect. In a similar way and accord-

ing to similar respects, the natural phenomena are carried through as

phenomena of earth, air, ivater and fire.

" In what reference, and according to what respects, were the

objects of Nature hitherto considered?"

" In reference to the place in which they are born, and in which

they live."



178 EDUCATIOM OF MAN.

" Do the objects of Iâture come nearer to or farther from people

accordmg to the place in which they live ? Is there any difference in

the way of living, the behavior, the utterances and qualities, of the

objects of Nature, according to whether they are nearer to or farther

from people ?"

"Yes."

« No."


The objects of Nature which are nearer to men, and more subject

to their influence, are weaker, more sensitive, needing more care, are

more tractable, etc.;

they are generally more tame; the

objects ofNature which are remote from man, and less subject to his influences,

are more i*ough, are ivild.

" Mention the tame animals in your neighborhood which you

know."

"Mention the loild animals in your neighborhood which you

know."

The tame animals can also be considered in reference to their use-

fulness and use, and here as useful animals, animals which afford pro-

tection, animals which are used for pleasure, beasts of burden, draught

animals, etc.

The wild animals can be considered as useful and harmful animals.

The plants and vegetables can be considered in the same way.

The tame plants are also called cidtivated plants, etc. Something

similar may also be said of the minerals ; for example, wood-streams

and well-water, rocky soil and cultivated grounds, etc.

" As you have hitherto considered the objects of Nature familiar to

you, and which are in your neighborhood in reference to the place in

which they are born and in which they live, can they also be consid-

ered likewise in any other similar respect ?"

"Yes," in reference to the tinie, for example:—Winter and summer fruits

Spring, summer, and autumn flowers.

Animals, plants, and the phenomena of Nature can also be con-

sidered in this way, for instance :—

In winter the northern lights

In summer thick fog;

In spring and autumn, mist

In winter, snow, ice, hoar-frost.




So with us

the swallow is a summer bird

the lark and water-wagtail are spring birds

the snow-goose is a winter bird.

So there are day-butterflies, hawk-moths which fly usually at

twilight, and night-moths.

So there are May, June, and July bugs.

So March blossoms (snowflakes), May blossoms (dandelions),

sj)ring blossoms (snowdrops).

But the animals, especially the bii'ds, can also be considered in

respect to place aryd time as spring and autumn birds-of-passage.

The consideration of the animals in respect to their manner of

living is especially important here, for example :—

Fles]i-Q3Xmg, rapacious animals

GVasft'-eating or ^ra/n-eating animals, etc.

Here now the especial knowledge of natural objects, the descrip-

tions of the objects of Nature, and, later, natural history, which has to

do with the discovery and perception of the more inward properties,

especially those which relate to the construction of the members,

immediately follows as a new and independent subject of instruction,

as did natural philosophy before, with the consideration of the phe-

nomena of Xature dependent upon the operations of the powers, etc.

The consideration of the minerals also necessarily points to physics.

The transition from the general consideration of Xature (as a

consideration of the outer world) to the science of Xature, the

description of the objects of Xature, and natural history, makes the

next consideration, that of the creatures which are nearest to man by

their life and their usefulness or harmfulness. Then follows the dis-

tinction of those which are born alive (mammalia) and the egg-laying

creatures; between those creatm-es which lay eggs and brood them,

and those which only lay eggs, leaving their hatching to Xature, etc.

The science of Nature and the description of the objects of Xature

have later to do, first of all, with the comprehension and seeking out of

the distinguishing, separating and uniting outward properties of the

objects of Xatiu-e, of their conditions and causes, of their effects and

consequences ; and especially with the discovery and recognition of

the natural classification and necessary connection of the things of

Xature— a classification and connection which proceed from these

properties— and with the compi-ehension of the external properties




by which the inner nature of the thing expresses itself outwardly,

most unequivocally and peculiarl}'.

By the ascent from the especial and individual to the general and

the most general, and the descent again from the general to the

esxêcial and most especial, by this fluctuation, as it were, of the

course of instruction, especially of the consideration of the outer

world, the course of instruction not only corresponds to life itself, but

it becomes equally possible to exhaust the knowledge of each object

for each stage of the intellectual development and power of compre-

hension of the scholar.

As, in what has gone before, the objects of Nature were considered

and comprehended in all their outward evident references,— in

respect to place, time, manner of living, expressions of life, etc., —and all was said that could be said about these references, the uwls

of man can be outwardly considered in a quite similar way.

" Seek out works of man which you know in your neighborhood

and within yom* range of vision, and see if they show any difference

and what differences they show."

'' The house, the village, the high-road, the bridges, the city, the

walls, the plough, the boundary stone, the wagon, the sign-post," etc.

" AVell, what differences do they show ?"

" They are different in their origin, their material, their use and

object."

"Seek out works of man which are different in their use and

object."

" What differences do they show in this respect ?"

" They serve man for dwellings, or for use and protection, or as

tools and utensils with which to make something ; they serve for con-

venience, and especially make it easier for men to get together, or for

pleasure, or they are mere results of man's power and man's mind."

" A^'hat works of man are there which give to man a dwelling-

place and an abode ?"

"Houses, villages, cities."

" What has a city, which is peculiar to it ?

"

" Streets, alleys, market-places, town-hall, stores, workshops, and,

in short, very different kinds of buildings."

*' In what are the buildings of a city especially different?"

" In their use, in the purposes for which they were meant."

" AVhat difference do the buildings of a city show in the pm'poses

for which they were meant ?"




"They are dwelling-houses, houses for work, public buildings,

buildings for pleasure, and buildings for beauty."

" What are the different kinds of business houses ?"

" Workshops, manufactories, stores, warehouses," etc.

"What different kinds of loorksliops are there in a city?"

" The shops of cabinet-makers, smiths, tailors, saddlers, belt-

makers, shoe-makers, carriage-makers, bakers, tinmen, weavers," etc.

"What is peculiar to each workshop?"

" The tools."

" What tools belong in the cabinet-maker's shop ?"

"

What tools belong in the smith's shop ?

"

And so on with each shop.

"For what purpose are the workshops meant?"

" To produce, to make, to form something."

" What is produced in the cabinet-maker's shop ?"

" What is made in the smith's shop ?"

And so on in each shop.

Likewise with the different manufactories ;" first, what stuff and

working implements do they contain ? secondly, what is produced in

them?"

So with the warehouses ;" for what do they serve ? and what do

they contain ?"

" Are the stores also different ?"

"In what are the stores essentially different?"

"In what they contain."

"Whatdifferences do the stores

showin respect to what they

contain ?"

"They contain

either productions of Nature and skill, which are principally sold

by iceight, and especially adapted to the food of people

or they contain productions of skill, which are principally sold by

long measure ;

or they contain all kinds of trifles, either for use and necessity, or

for beauty and ornament, and so on, which are sold according to their

own individual value and by number," etc.

" The first are groceries ; the second dry-goods stores ; the third can

again be very different, according to their contents :—

hardware stores,

toyshops,

millinery stores," etc.



182 EDUCATION OF ISLAN.

" What does a grocery contain that is essential to it ?"

" "What essential difference do all these goods show in reference to

the place where they are produced ?"

" They are either native or foreign."

" Name some native groceries."

" Name some foreign groceries."

In the same way, what is most essential and peculiar to each store

is brought forward and taught.

The public buildings also are distinguished and grouped according

to their use, as buildings for instruction, houses of correction, build-

ings for the worship of God, for nursing and charity, poorhouses,

police-stations, com't-houses, buildings for amusement, memorial

chapels, etc.

So will also the contents of these public buildings be gone through

with according to their use ; for example, the buildings of instruction,

the printing-offices, etc.

Xow the consideration rises from the work to the master of the

work, from the product to the maker, from the effect to the cause

therefore from the works of man to man, as, from the consideration

of Nature to its Creator, God.

" What are those people called who work in the cabinet-maker's

shop, and make the things which come from it?"

" Joiners," etc.

"IVliat are all those people who work in workshops mostly called?"

"Mechanics."

" Are the working-places of other producers of external works also

called workshops when the producers are not mechanics?"

"Yes: the sculptor's shop."

" Are there also mechanics who have no special place for working,

no special workshop ?"

"Yes; the masons, the carpenters, the plasterers."

"What are those persons called who work in manufactories?"

" Manufacturers."

"Tell me all the kinds of mechanics that you know."

(Likewise all the kinds of manufacturers.)

" Do the different trades (likewise the manufactories) group them-

selves according to their destinations, as belonging together ?"

"Yes."

" According to what respects and destinations are the mechanics

grouped ?"




" According to the material they use, and therefore according to

the kind of work they do ; for example the worker in wood."

" Can the different outward results of man's activity, consid-

ered according to their special destinations, also be grouped and

separated ?"

"Yes; either according to the material, or their origin, or their

use."

" How can the different outward productions of man be considered

in respect to their different material ?"

" As productions of the stone, plant, and animal kingdoms. The

material

maybe either principally

and exclusively stone and mineralor exclusively and essentially wooden and vegetable; or metal; or

stone (mineral) and wood (vegetable) ; or stone and metal ; or wood

and metal ; or wood and stone ; or finally, the productions may be

especially of animal material, or of mixed and indeterminable

material."

" How can the different outward productions of man's activity be

distinguished and grouped, according to their use?"

" As protective works, useful works, works of pleasure, works of

art, memorial works, and works of magnificence."

The dwellings, the clothes, the fortifications, the weapons, can be

considered as protective works, and all can again be distinguished

according to particular respects ; thus, for example, the weapons, as

shooting, stabbing, and cutting weapons.

So the works of use as works for the maintenance of social order

and social intercourse ; for example

bridges, high-roads, boundary-stones, sign-posts, etc. ; or as works

for production; such as working-tools, implements for service,

materials.

" The tools can again be considered and grouped, as :—

separating tools,

boring and puncturing tools,

thrusting and sti-iking tools,

drawing and smoothing tools, and

stamping and pressing tools.

" Seek out separating tools.'''

" The axe, the wedge, the chisel, the hedging-bill," etc.

These can again be considered, as :—

cutting and chopping tools,

satcing, splitting, and breaking tools.




" Name sevêral examples of each."

" Seek out thrusting and striking tools."

" Hammer, ram, pestle, mallet," etc.

"Name the boring said puncturing tools."

"Gimlet, auger, wimble, awl, paling-iron, needle," etc.

" Name the draicing and smoothing tools which you know."

" The rasp, the file, the polishing-tooth* the plough, the harrow,

the whetstone, the folding-stick, the plane."

" Seek out stamping and pressing tools."

(As always, the discoveries made are repeated by the teacher and

children together.)

Just so with the implements of service.

" What is the difference between implements of service and tools?"

The materials have been mostly already considered. In a similar

way, the works for pleasure, the memorial works, the works of mag-

nificence, and especially the works of art, are considered. As before,

the contents of the public buildings were considered, so now is

their use.

"For what are the town-hall, the court, and the guard-house

intended ? and what is done in each ?"

" For what are the schools meant ?"

"For what are the churches meant?"

" What are the persons called who employ themselves in the town-

hall, in the court, and in the church as such ?"

" Judges, lawyers," etc.

" Aldermen," etc.

" School-teachers," etc.

" What is the business of the lawyers," etc. ?

"What is the business of the aldermen," etc. ?

The same with the school-teachers and ministers.

" Does the city only show all this ?"

" What makes a city a city ?"

" Are there different kinds of cities and towns ?"

"Yes,— country towns, county towns, capital cities, sea towns,

commercial towns, and university towns."

"What is the essential peculiarity of each of these towns and

cities," etc. ?

" And of their inhabitants ?"

" Are there other activities, employments, and ministries of men,

which have not yet been named ?"




" Yes, many."

"What?"" The employments of the handicraftsman who is not exactly a

mechanic, of the day-laborer, of the hnnter, fisher, gardener, farmer,

grazier," etc.

"Is there, or is there not, a certain resemblance or likeness among

the different activities and e'mployments of men ?"

" Yes ; there are precisely grouping resemblances and likenesses."

"What?"" Have all the different activities of men an object ?

"

" Are the different objects of man's activity of one kind, or of

different kinds?"

"What is the final object of all man's activity, of all man's

working and creating?"

" Since the final object of all human activity, of all human working,

is one only, do men live, and have men lived also, in one and the

same relation, whatever employment, and whatever work, they may

have besides?"

"Yes,— in the family relation."

" Since all men, without exception, live and have lived in family

relation, but since, also, all men strive towards the highest and last

aim, viz., the purest representation and the attaining of the clearest

consciousness of the nature given by God to man, where, therefore,

will men be most certainly and surely trained to the attainment of

this last aim of their activity and effort? and where must they be

developed to the attainment of this aim ?"

"In the famili/."

" What are the outward limitations of a family ? and what are the

essential members of a family ?"

"Father, mother, child, and also the servants."

"How must, therefore, a family be constituted, if man is to be

represented by it, and developed through it for the highest and ulti-

mate end of life ; if in it and by it man is to reach to this end ?"

" It must recognize this ultimate end and the means of reachingit; must understand the way and means of reaching it; and must

assist this by its powers, capacities, insight, and means, according to

the determinations and requirements of the highest end, and having

this only in view," etc.

" Even though a single family corresponded to all these require-

ments, would it be in a condition to reach the highest and ultimate

end of human effort by itself ?"




"Xo."

"AVhynot?"

" Because it is impossible for a single family to contain in itself

all powers, capacities, and means for this purpose."

" Then how will the ultimate end of man be most easily and surely

reached ?"

""When several families, recognizing the highest end of human

life and effort, understanding the means for reaching this, and mutu-

ally benefiting, and assisting each other by their powers, knowledges,

and means, unite for this highest end.

" Only the human race as a whole, as a unit, can reach the highest

and ultimate end of all human effort, — representation of pure

humanity."

Thus, after a great circuit and many windings, the scholar has

returned to the house and the family-room from which he started

at the beginning of the contemplation of the outside world and of

Nature; he has returned to the middle point of all earthly human

impulses and efforts, though with other eyes and senses, although the

objects of the outer world were for the most part only outwardly

brought forward and contemplated. He has found man in his differ-

ent relations to the things of the outside world ; he has found—himself.

This subject of instruction, being the first, was, for that reason,

carried out to such an extent in order to show how all instruction

must proceed from the scholar and his nearest surroundings, must

refer back and return to man.

It scarcely need be said to those who think, though not deeply,

that the answers last pointed out, in the completeness and coherence in

which they are given, neither should nor could be given by the scholars,

even by those who have advanced in age during the course of the

instruction ; but the conceptions which these answers contain should

be developed in the scholar. And he is certainlysufficiently

devel-

oped to be able to receive these conceptions, even at his still inferior

stage of judgment.

Just as little does it need to be said to those who think, that, since

the instruction is and must be connected with the locality of the

scholars, therefore, in the application of this, every thing must be

excluded which is outside of the scholar's sphere of life. It should




merely be pointed out how this contemplation of the outside world

and Xature, according to a law and course of teaching contained in it

in unity and wholeness, embraces all which Xature and the outside

world bring before the observer. Yet some similar references, as, for

example, to the business or the higher spiritual activities of man, to

all declared relations and efficiencies of man, present themselves ; and,

the more rarely and recedingly they present themselves, the more

necessary it is to comprehend and retain them in order to connect

with them higher and further developments. For who does not see

what obtrudes itself for observation and judgment (with the degi-ee of

at least external cultivation now becoming general), even into the life

of the country-people living in the greatest retirement, since not only

the consideration, but also the penetration and control of the higher

relations of life and Xature are becoming more and more what they

should be,— a problem for the whole human race to solve?

It would also not be considered necessary to give thinkers (and

only thinkers should teach and instruct) the sprouting-point for each

new twig of instruction; for instance, for the so-called science of

Xature (physics) in the phenomena of Xature, the remarkable comingout of inwardly working powers ; for chemistry, likewise in certain

phenomena of Xature, the change of matter, either by the influence of

general activities of Xature, such as light and heat (as, for example,

with the coloring, the strong aromatic odor of certain leaves in

autumn, decay, etc.), or by the influence of matter on matter.

So the sprouting-point for technology is in the consideration of

the trades, etc.

It is generally well for the teacher to find all this for himseK ; the

recognition is then more vivid, and the instruction gains in interest.

And why should not every thinker find within himself the right

way, if he only faithfully and willingly, without sophistry, scepticism,

or self-conceit, allows himself to be guided by the spirit? In all men

and in all beings there works but the One Divine Spirit given to

them all.

And even the experienced teacher, though he should teach againand again the simplest things, will learn by teaching (at least it has

always been so with the MTiter up to present time).

From what other source came to the teacher the strength and

courage for teaching, — the courage which he can.so easily lose by the

hindrances and difficulties arbitrarily laid in the way by ignorance

and prejudice?




Therefore there will be raised, in reference to the scholar, the

further objection, — " How can the boy, especially at the age here

supposed (from six to eight years, perhaps more), already possess

the knowledge here brought forward? The adult himself scarcely

possesses such knowledge."

He cannot now possess it ; but it is to come to him gradually in

the course of instruction ; and it certainly does come to him as has

been shown by frequent repetitions of this course of teaching, the

outward form of which comes mostly from the scholars. Also there

will be roused in the boy such a habit of observation of the objects of

Nature and the outside world, that scarcely any thing of even slight

importance escapes his notice, and he thus certainly affords supple-

mentary certification to that to which his attention was called in a

former study-hour. So man learns early that which his destination

requires,— to observe and to think.

Besides, even the boy, and still more the man, knows more than

he is conscious of knowing.

Now it is said that such an instruction would lead the boy too

early out of his natural narrow bounds;

that he would become vainof his knowledge through the manifoldness which he receives into

himself.

Manifoldness of knowledge in necessary living connection never

causes vanity ; for it makes man thoughtful, and shows him that he

on the whole knows but little. The former effect raises the human

being to a man ; the latter gives him his finest ornament,— modesty.

Yet how would it be possible to meet all the objections and con-

tradictions that have been brought forward, and may still be brought

forward ?

Therefore we leave the nature, compass, and effect of this subject

of instruction and this course of teaching, to the consideration of

one and all ; for there is much, very much more to be said concerning

the importance of this course. Rightly known and rightly compre-

hended, it can be applied and carried out in the most inferior school

and it vindicates itself, for it places man early, in a simple, animated

manner, in the middle point and inner coherence of all that which

offers itself outwardly to man's recognition and even presses itself

upon him for consideration. Thus this course leads man to thought-

fulness, to knowledge and conception of the nature, the ultimate

cause, as well as of the ultimate end, of all things. This knowledge,

and a use and application of it wholly in accordance with it, is indeed



MAN AS A SCHOLAll. 189

the final aim of all instruction, however different may be the names

by which it is called.

appropriation of little poetical representations compris-

ing nature and life, and used especially for singing.

Section 92.

Nature and life speak very early to man ; but they speak softly, so

softly that the yet undeveloped sense of the boy, the yet uni:)ractised

ear of man at this stage of development, still receives with difficulty

the language and tones of life and Xature. This unpractised ear

indeed receives and feels them, but the boy does not yet understand

how to point them out, how to translate them into his language, how

to express them in his own language. And yet, soon after he first feels

and knows himself as differing from the outside world, the yearning

arises in his mind to understand the life and language of the outside

world, especially of Nature, and the anticipation also arises that he

will at some time receive into himself the life which enters every%vhere

from without, and make it his own.

The seasons, as well as the time of day, come and go. The spring,

wdth its germinating and sprouting and blossoming, fills man, even in

boyhood, with pleasure and life ; the blood flows more quickly, and

the heart beats more loudly. The autumn, with its falling, colored,

and variegated leaves, and its aromatic fragrance, fills man, even as a

boy, with yearningand anticipation. And the rigid but clear, con-

stant, and steady winter awakens courage and strength; and this

feeling of courage and strength, endurance and renunciation, makes

the boy's heart and mind free and glad. Therefore he scarcely exults

as much over the first birds and blossoms of spring as over the first

snowflakes, which promise his courage and strength a smooth, quick

passage to a distant goal.

All these feelings are presages of the future life; they are the

hieroglyphics of the quiet and still slumbering inner life; and whenrightly recognized, estimated, and understood, they are angels who

lead man in and through life : therefore they should not be lost for

man, they should not be allowed to pass away into empty vapor and

mist.

And what does our life have, if our childhood and youth wêre poor

and empty,— poor in and empty of fresh, aspiring and hoping, antici-




pating and believing sensations and feelings -which elevate living

forms and life,— poor in and empty of having felt and become con-

scious of our nobler selves ?

If we ^Yill but admit it, is not our childhood and youth— the

aspiration and hope, the anticipation and belief of our childhood and

youth, especially of our boyhood— the inexhaustible fount from

which we in later life, and for our later life, obtain strength, courage,

and endurance?

Is not

" The heavens declare the glory of God," etc., and

"Blest is the man who fears the Lord," etc., in spite of all his

errors, the fundamental thought in the life of the bard of God and of

Nature ?

And although this thought does not express itself for us in our

earlier life, yet the later time shows that, even in the earliest stage of

life, this thought worked in it, dwelt in it, and moved it.

And did not the former psalm proceed from the observation of

Nature, and the latter from the observation of life ?

"Was not, likewise, the fundamental thought in the life of the

Saviour of the world, " consider the lilies of the field, and the birds

of the air, God clotheth and feedeth them ; how much more shall he

not care for his children in all the occurrences of life"; and "I

must be about my Father's business ? "— and are not both of these

expressions founded on the thoughtful reception of Xatm-e and life ?

But not only do Xature and life speak to man, but man also would

willingly express the conjectures and sensations which are awakened

in him by the speech of Xature and life, but for which he cannot find

words. And these words should now be given to him according to

the demand of his mental development,— the development of his

inner sense.

The relation of man to man is neither as external as some imagine,

nor as easily communicable in its inwardness as others believe. It is

indeed full of deep meaning and high significance; but its soft

accords must be early fostered in the boy, but moreindirectly

thandirectly by words demanding subtle reasoning. The direct demand

fetters, obstructs, deadens, ti-ains the boy, and makes of him a puppet.

The indirect suggestion (for instance, in song without moralizing appli-

cation) gives to the mind and will of the boy the inner freedom which

is so necessary for his development and strengthening ; only here, again,

the outer and inner life of the boy must be in accord with it, which




is, of course, the first and inalienable requirement. The more rare

and the more withdra^vn from observation this may be in life, the

more should it be fostered where it is possible ; and even the instruc-

tion which otherwise scarcely touches the life, the school otherwise

separated from life, should foster it.

Let us enter a schoolroom where at this moment such an instruc-

tion, in this sense and spirit, is beginning.

More than twelve lively boys of from six to nine years of age are

collected, and know that to-day they will have the pleasure of singing

something under the guidance of their teacher.

The boys, placed in a row, await the beginning of this instruction,

the " hour," as they call it.

The teacher was accidentally absent in the afternoon. It is even-

ing ; he comes in, and sings to them repeatedly.

^^-good-evening.

El

This good-evening, being sung to them unexpectedly, comes so

close to their inner life that it fills them with pleasure, joy, and

laughter.

Xow the teacher says, " Shall I have no greeting ? " and sings to

them again the " good-evening."

Most of them answer in speech, "Good-evening"; some, "Many

thanks " ; a few say in cadence, " Good-evening."

The teacher now turns to these particularly, and says, " Sing good-

evening to me."

The first sings softly ; the second, jestingly ; the third, etc.

The first. The second. The third.

mÎ

Others to whom he turns sing " good-evening " in the same tones

as the teacher, or in similar ones.

"Carl (the first) has sung ' good-evening ' to me; now sing it to

me in concert as he sung it."

They sing it.

"George (the second) has sung 'good-evening' to me also; now

sing this also to me in concert as he sung it."




They sing it again.

The teacher now continues to sing, giving a description of the

weather :—

iHBout doors it is raw and cold.

Is that true ? " he asks. ..." Well, then we will sing it together."

(Teacher and scholar repeat it together.)

The teacher now continues his description :—

fetEESwind is blowing in the trees.

" Is this also true ?"..." Then we will sing it also together."

Now they sing the whole together.

Now those only sing who most feel the truth of what has been

said, and who best like to express it.

The instruction goes on by means of song and antii^hony, holding

fast the sensations awakened by the impressions of the season, and

expressing them by describing the phenomena of Nature.

Ear and voice will be developed at the same time by this instruc-

tion; the sensation exj^ressed by word and tone will become clear.

To-day the outward particulars are the same as yesterday ; therefore

to-day also the instruction begins and continues as it did yesterday.

Having sung the same several times, one of the boys said gayly,

" ShaU we not soon have a little song about the sunshine ?

"

This question at once expressed naturally the inner wish of the

boy, that after long-continuing rain, mist, and wind, the weather

might be again serene and clear.

The teacher takes up the sensation of the boy, and sings to him :—

P p E P^

ioh, bright, bright clear sunshine, come soon to us again.

The boys joyously sing this in concert.

This beginning of instruction is here communicated because it is

by no means the most favorable. Raw, disagreeable autumn days,

wet, cold evenings, do not call forth the inner life.

The morning, the spring, a mornhig walk in spring, a rest on a



MAX AS A SCHOLAR. 19^

hill, etc., would liave been more suited to arouse the inner life. Yet

now certainly the boys who have by this instruction been filled with

expectation, will so much the more joyfully welcome the first clear

day which shows the surrounding country in soft, woolly, snowy

garments, and a clear, serene starlight and moonlight evening ; and

with so much the more fervor and feeling will they sing in the coming

spring :—

See, the sky's serene;

Bright flowers, and leaves so green,

In field and hedge are seen.

Or,

The green grass is gTowing,The blue sky is clear,

And flowers are blowing,

For spring-time is here.

There are an abundance of judicious collections of songs and little

poetical representations from which a teacher, living in his object,

filled with and penetrated by it, can draw ; they are sufficiently well

known, and will be more so by him who seeks to become familiar

with them.

If their representation and delineation, especially of the individual

sensations and impressions, are not simple and short enough, a teacher

who is only somewhat observant and thoughtful can easily translate

the instantaneous sensations and feelings of the boys, as well as the

impressions of Nature, into animated and descriptive words.

There is also no lack of representations embracing the individual

life of the boy; for example

:

—We children while hopping are gay,

As gay as the graceful doe;

But we learn as well as play,

For boys to men will grow.

So, also, the individual life of one or several boys ; for example :—

Dear little doves, you are so sweet

Come, and from my small hand eat.

The animal world in general higher reference; for example:—

Would you like a song to hear ?

Listen to the humming bee.

It hums and flies both far and near;

Its busy skill all like to see.



194 EDUCATION OF MAX.

Especially the relation of man to man; for example:—

If a little bird were I,

Had two little wings to fly,

I would fly to thee;

Mother mine, oh, mother ! pray

Stay no more away.

Or,

Or,

When I'm with lively brothers,

And loving sisters dear,

I learn to be quite peaceful,

And sing songs loud and clear.

It is lovely to see

That the kind brothers here,

And the sisters so dear,

Can in harmony be;

When hand clasped in hand

Through the beautiful laud

Of life the children stray,

When all is bright, andall is light,

To them upon their way.

Referring to the inner life of the child and boy ; for example

THE CHILD'S AXGEL.

See through the land a gentle angel fly,

No eye can see him ;he can all espy.

Heaven is his home so dear,

God sends him to us here.

He goes from house to house, and each good child

He finds with father dear, or mother mild,

He loves, and stays with ever.

And will desert it never.

Or,

Oh, time of sweet joy,

Pray never leave me,Thy gay, youthful dress

Is so pleasant to see.

I sleep without care

While the moon shines bright

I wake up with joy

At the dawn of light.




But it must not be forgotten, with this instruction (if it can be

called instruction, since it is a representation of the child's own life),

that it must proceed from the peculiar life of the scholar, and must

sprout forth from it, like a bud or shoot. The experience or inner

life must necessarily precede the words and tune given to the boy

and this is especially the distinctive difference of this course of

instruction from that which teaches children and boys little poems

and songs, which, being only from without, neither awaken life, nor

comprise and represent life.

In general, all which was before said concerning the appropriation

of religious expressions, especially in the beginning,is of equal value

here.

exercises in language proceeding from the contemplation

of nature and the outside world.

Section 93.

The consideration of Xature and the outside world has the objects

in view purely as such, according to their total impression and their

general references, particularly their reference to space. The consid-

eration of language as a means of representation is subordinated to

this ; for man considers the objects for himself alone, and takes in

their nature without speaking. But speech must come in as a help

in giving instruction in order to prove, as well as possible, that the

scholar has actually looked at, thought about, and comprehended the

thing.

Now the language-exercises also proceed from the objects, it is

true, but take them up with respect to their exterior and to the

impressions which they make on the senses of man, and have in view

pre-eminently the designation of them (which is conditioned in man,

and demanded by him) by language.

The consideration of Nature and the outside wôrld deals with the

objects themselves ; the grammatical exercises deal predominantly

W'ith the description of these objects by means of the audible material

of language, and especially with the appropriation and use of this

language as a means of description and representation, but still in

inner union w4th the object itself.

The consideration of Nature and the outside world asks, " What




is that?" the grammatical exercise asks, "How is this denoted?"

which last is language.

As the consideration of Nature and the outside world only con-

siders the object, so the grammatical exercises consider its effect upon

man and on the senses of man, and the manner in which we correctly

and properly designate by speech these impressions and perceptions.

This immediately requires a third consideration,— the considera-

tion of speech without any reference to the designated object, but

merely as a product of man and of the use of his organs of speech.

These exercises are the exercises in speech which are therefore again

directly connected with, and proceed from, the grammatical exercises.

The complete, fundamental knowledge and use of language, therefore,

requires three things :—

first the consideration of the objects of speech alone

the consideration of the outer world;

then consideration of the speech and object together proceeding

from the outer to the inner world

viz., grammatical exercises

finally, consideration of the speech alone, without respect to the

object, merely as material

viz., exercises in speech.

The course of teaching of the consideration of the outer world

was before intimated.

The course of teaching of the grammatical exercises is as follows :—

It proceeds, as above stated, from the perception of the outer

world by the senses, and rises to the inner perception of it.

The teacher begins :—

" We are in a room ; there are several things about us here ; tell

me some of these objects around us."

" The mirror, the desk, the stove," etc.

" Could several more objects be around us here in the room ?"

"Yes."

" Could as many objects be brought into the room as anybody

wanted?"

"No."

"Why not?"

" Because then there would not be enough room and space there."

" Why would there not be space and place enough in the room for

as many things as any one wished to bring into it?"



MAN AS A SCHOLAR. l9T

" Because each thing takes its own room and place, its own space."

"Prove and show this to me by something else."

" Where ]ny hand is, my slate cannot also be. Or where I am and

write, my neighbor cannot also be at the same time ; and I cannot be

in his place at the same time with him. Or where the stove stands,

the desk cainiot stand also at the same time."

" Then what is meant by saying that each thing takes up its own

space and place ?"

"No other thing can be and act in the place where it is."

" In what way, and by what means, do you perceive the action and

activities of objects in their space ?"

"By my hands, eyes, ears," etc.

[We actually perceive the objects outside of ourselves only by

taking in the nature of the things, by making it internal, that is, by

receiving and experiencing it; therefore] "we call the organs by

which this is done, eyes, ears, hands, and so on ; and the activities,

hearing, seeing, and so on, the senses."

" So we perceive and recognize outside objects by the senses."

Questioning : " By what do we perceive and recognize? " etc.

"Name the senses by which we perceive and recognize that the

object acts, and does something."

"Can it be said of each object and thing that it acts, and does

something ?"

" Yes.— No."

"Why yes?— Why no?"

" Name something that each of the objects around us does, and by

which it is noticeable to you."

" The inkstand stands.

" The pen lies.

" The mii-ror hangs.

"The garment lies.

" The stick leans.

" The sun shines.

" The scholar sits.

" The canary-bird sings.

"The clock goes.

"The boy speaks.

" The penknife cuts.

" The compasses pierce.

" The boot stamps."



198 EDUCATION OF IVlAN.

"Were all these objects perceived in the same way and by the

same senses ?"

"No, I see many of them ; I feel many of them," etc.

" So we perceive many of these objects in their action principally

by sight, many principally by feeling or touch."

" Can I only feel and touch the activities and action of many

things without seeing them ?"

" Yes."

" Name some objects and what they do, which can be principally

perceived by touch, without recognizing them by any other activity

and action."


" The slate lies.

" The stick leans.

" The garment lies."

" Can I also perceive these objects in these activities by any other

sense than touch ?"

" Yes : by sight, by the eyes."

" Seek out objects among those you know which actually stand."

" The house stands.

" The post stands.

" The desk stands."

Etc.

[This should be repeated in concert, as before, then grouping the

things, — the house, the post, the desk stands, all these objects stand.]

" Find out objects of which one can say, they stand."

" The water stands.

" The sun stands.

" The mill stands.

" The column stands.

« The blood stands

" The pulse stands."

" Name, among the objects which you know, those which lie, lean,

hang, pierce, sit," etc.

" Name objects of which one says, they lie, lean, hang, pierce, sit,"

etc.

" Have the just-named activities and effects of the objects any

.

thing in common ?"




'' What do they show in common ?"

" Inward activity without outward motion, or with outward rest."

" Can you also remark in yourself, and in people in general, inward

activity with outward rest or without outward motion ? "

"Yes."

" The man rests, the man sleeps, the man wakes, the man dreams,

the man reflects, the man thinks, the man feels," etc.

"Kame objects which actiially rest, sleep, wake," etc.

" Also objects which have an outward, and, at the same time, a

continuously-advancing motion ; such as, going, running, racing, flow-

ing, flying, striding, dancing, hopping, springing, swimming, riding,

gliding, falling, sinking," etc.

" Also objects which have outward and visible motion without

continuous advance ; for instance, rolling like the waves, undulating,

boiling, breathing, turning, blossoming, ripening."

" Then objects which have outer and continuously-advancing, com-

municatmg motion ; for example, pulling, rowing, raising, carrying,

pushing."

" Objects with separating activity ; such as, cutting, piercing,

boring, breaking, planing, sawing, ripening, splitting," etc.

" Objects with connecting activity ; for example, weavmg, binding,

knitting, sewing, braiding," etc.

" Objects with forming activity ; for example, sculpturing, painting,

drawing, writing, forging," etc.

" Objects whose activity can only be seen ; as, glittering, shinmg,

shimmering, lighting, darkening," etc.

" Objects whose activity can only be felt ; for example, warming,

cooling, paining, delighting," etc.

" Objects whose activity can only be heard ; for example, singing,

piping, flute-playing; speaking, talking; laughing, shouting; crying,

howling; whining, sobbing; groaning, rattling (in the throat) ; ringing,

rustling, creaking, clapping," etc.

" General activities of Natm-e ; for example, storming, blowing,

raining, hailing, snowing, thundering, freezing," etc.

"Objects with especial inward activity of the spirit; for example,

loving, hating, praising."

" Objects whose action is upon themselves ; for example, washing

one's self, combing one's own hair, cutting one's self, dressing one's

self, enjoying one's self, respecting one's self," etc.

" Which of the activities named are proper to man exclusively ?"




" What peculiarity have all the activities which are proper to man

exclusively ?"


" The mirror hangs.

" The pen lies."

" By what are all these objects known to be in space ? and by what

were the objects considered to be so ?"

" By what they do, by their effect."

" The inkstand stands before you. Does it make an impression on

your senses in any other wây than by some kind of expression of its

activity, its effect ?"

" Yes : it is round ; it is leaden."

" The iên lies before you. Does it make any other impression on

you than by an expression of its activity?"

"Yes : it is long ; it is black."

"Seek out objects which you notice, as you did the inkstand

and the pen, on account of similar impressions, and mention the

impressions.""

The lead-pencil is long." The slate-pencil is short.

" The chair is brown.

" The stove is large.

" The flower-pot is small.

" The slate is thick.

" The rule is wooden.

" The table is round."

" The table is round. Seek out other objects that are round."

" The inkstand is round ; the ball is round ; the pencil is round

the target is round ; the hole is round."

(Repeated in a twofold way, singly and in groups, as always.)

" Are the pencil, the target, and the ball round in the same way ?"

" Seek out objects which are circular."

" Which are spherical."

"

AVhich are cylindrical.""Which are round like an egg."

" Which are a long round in shape (oval)."

"Which are oblong and straight-lined."

" Which are three-cornered, four-cornered, many-cornered, hollow,

pointed, beautiful, ugly."

" How can all the just-mentioned impressions of objects be compre-

hensively denoted ?"




" As impressions of form and figure.

In the same way deal with wide, narrow ; thick, thin ; long, short

high, low; small, large, etc., as impressions of size.

So with single, double, treble, etc., as impressions of number.

Then flat, smooth, rough, uneven, humped, scaly, granulous, sandy,

splintering, as impressions of surface.

So with wooden, stone, silver, hempen, flaxen, golden, etc., as

impressions of the material.

Then hard, soft, brittle ; solid, fluid, gaseous ; flexible, impressible,

etc., as impressions of condition, of consistency.

Then red, gTeen, yellow, blue; violet, orange; colored, variegated

white, black, gray, spotted; glittering, shimmering, etc., as impres-

sions of light and color.

So with foul, muddy, spicy, as impressions of evaporation.

Etc., etc.

So with pure, wicked, decent, moral ; merry, surly, joyous;endur-

ing, economical, attentive ; docile, communicative, patient ; affectionate,

childlike, friendly; roguish, courageous, sportive, etc., as impressions

of behavior, of disposition, and of bias.

The consideration of the outer world has already shown with pre-

cision the germs to be developed for the entrance and introduction of

natural philosophy and chemistry as independent studies. The gram-

matical exercises, as proceeding from the consideration of the outer

world, and especially of xâture, come back to it by the perception of

the activities and effects, the expressions and impressions, of objects,

and the correct and comprehending designation of them by speech,

so much the more precisely and indubitably as the seeking-out and

taking-in of the limitations and causes of the activities and impres-

sions proceeding from the effects of the powers and material of things,

and referring to their nature, are exhaustively treated, and corre-

spondingly designated by speech. The natural, philosophical, and

chemical side of the consideration of N'ature, which is so importantfor each human being, finds later in the scholar a much greater and

more' impressive sympathy, and is much more deeply rooted in him, if

this instruction is exhaustively carried out. Therefore, on«account of

the much too slight observation and cultivation of these sides of the

consideration of the outward world and of language in connnon life,

they must be especially considered in the course of instruction, as a




preparation for natural science, natural philosophy and chemistry ; or

else the future instruction in these branches of human knowledge

floats in the air, or is at least not a living sprout of the tree of knowl-

edge, as is so frequently the case with the relation to man of several

subjects of knowledge, especially in natural science. And how cer-

tainly many w^hose eyes and senses were not awakened to them in

boyhood, and who, notwithstanding, employed themselves later with

these natural sciences, could demonstrate this fact in their own experi-

ence if they would confess the truth ! On account of the importance

of what has been here indicated— since the boy is by this means not

only placed in the centre ofhis outside environment, w^hile he recog-

nizes the objects themselves in the most manifold references to each

other and to man, and thereby finds that not only himself, but his

inner cultivation of mind, word, and conception, come into harmony

with the wôrld of Nature,— this subject of instruction is carried

out into such minute details. The knowledge of number, form, and

size, the knowledge of space in its totality, also sprouts from this;

and the germinating points are clearly shown in what has been pre-

viously said. For the knowledge of number, form, and size, if it is

later to exert an active, fruitful influence on life as a general knowl-

edge of space, must necessarily exert a reflex influence upon it,— must

proceed from the observation and consideration of the phenomena of

space, and the relations of the actual surroundings.

We go on in the course of teaching.

" You said before : the tree is leafy

the bush is thorny

the glass is cracked

the cloth is perforated

can you mark this impression of 'the tree, bush, glass, cloth, by any

other language ?"

" The tree has leaves;

" the bush has thorns;

" the glass has cracks."

" Seek out other objects with which similar things take place."

" Man has hands

" the hands have fingers

" the fingers have joints;

" the finger-tips have nails;




" the fish have scales

" the goose has feathers;

" the hedgehog has spmes

"the tree has leaves."

" Seek out all the objects which have skin, all which have scales,

which have feathers, which have spines, which have leaves," etc.

" The tree has leaves

" the book has leaves

" the flower has leaves ;" etc.

Etc.

Now to look at and comprehend the objects with reference to the

space which each fills.

" The tree has leaves ; where has it leaves ?"

" On the branches, on the twigs."

" The flowers have leaves ;where have they leaves?

"

"On the calyx, in the calyx, with the calyx."

"Seek out objects which are on one another."

" The ears are on the head," etc.

"Seek out objects which rest upon another."

" The blackboard hangs on the wall."

In the same way the objects are considered and pointed out in

regard to the other references of space-filling, and, first of all, in rest-

ing activity ; for example :—

The book stands in the bookcase

the music lies upon the piano

the bird flies over the house

the cat creeps under the table

the ball sticks fast between the bushes

the scholar sits near the teacher.

Etc.

As many perceptions as possible are to be sought out for all these

by the scholars.

Xow objects are sought out which in space-filling, continuously-

advancing activity are incumbent upon one another ; for example :

The boy looks at the slate;

the teacher comes into the school

the bird flies on the twig;

the sparrow creeps under the roof

the girl walks beside the mother.

Etc.




Finally comparing the two :—

The coat hangs on the wall

the coat is hung on the wall

the book lies in the bookcase

the book is laid in the bookcase.

As hitherto the objects were recognized and perceived in definite

relations of space to one another, so now come perception, compre-

hension, and designation of these objects in indefinite, general rela-

tions of space, as above, below, inside, outside, etc.

Further indications for the course of instruction on this subject

cannot be given here, as the space destined for it is akeady exceeded.

It should be added that this course of instruction, according to a law

contained in itself, comprises all the relations and references to be

indicated by language, advancing from the simple to the compound,

and, lastly, it concludes with a comprehensive, descriptive, narrative,

etc., representation of actual j)henomena of the-outer world.

/.

exercise in and for outavard corporeal representations in

space, advancing according to rule and law from the

simple to the compound.

Section 94.

Man not only develops and cultivates himself toward the attain-

ment of his destination and his calling by that which he receives from

without, even in boyhood, but as much (and, if it be weighed and

measured, predominantly more) by that which he unfolds and repre-

sents from himself.

Experience and history also teach that the men who have most

truly and impressively promoted genuine human welfare have done so

far more by what they have represented from themselves than by what

they have received into themselves. For as every one knows that we,

by genuine and true teaching, advance in knowledge and insight, so also

every one knows, and even Xature teaches each, that the use of power

not only arouses, but heightens and increases, the power ; and so the

receiving and grasping the thing in life and action is far more unfold-

ing, improving, and strengthening than the mere reception of it in

wôrd and idea. So, also, is the forming with and by means of matter



MAN AS A SCHOLAE.. 205

in life and action (connected with thought and word), of far greater

value for the development and improvement of man than the repre-

sentation by idea and word without formation. So this subject of

instruction necessarily follows the just-treated subjects of the contem-

plation of the outside world and the language-exercises.

The life and impulses of the boy have actually but one aim, that of

outwardly representing his personality ; indeed, his life actually con-

sists only in an outward representation of his inner nature, his power,

especially with material and by means of material.

In that which the boy forms, he sees not outward forms which will

penetrate into him, but he sees in them the laws and activities of hisspirit, which thus express themselves to him ; for the destination of

teaching and instructing is more and more to bring out/row man than

to put into him, because that which can be put into man we already

know, and it is already an attribute of humanity; and because, also,

it is necessary for each one, just because he is a human being, to

unfold and develop according to the laws of humanity : but what

comes out of humanity, what the natm'e of humanity will yet develop,

that we do not yet know, that is not yet an attribute of the humanrace ; and, notwithstanding, the human nature, like the spii-it of God,

is constantly unfolding from itself.

Enlightening as this view of the subject might and should be to us

from the consideration of our ovra lives and those of others, if we are

only upright toward ourselves, and clear in perception and compre-

hension of the causes of that which is, yet we, even the best among

us, are already so plastered over with outwardly-received prejudices

and opinions (like the plants by the spring stoned round wdth lime-

stone), that only with the greatest exertion and self-constraint do we

give a hearing to this better view, and even then only in very slight

measure. For let us at least confess, that, when we speak of the

development and cultivation of our children^ we actually should

speak of the swathing and binding of them ; indeed, we should not

at all speak of a training which coheres with development of the

spiritual, of the desire and will in man, but of a stamping and mould-ing, however proudly we all believe ourselves long since freed from

this spirit-deadening view. And exceedingly anxious, therefore, must

be those to whom we yield our children, oar sons, for education, since

we ourselves are thoroughly unable to educate them.

What shall these educators do ?

Jesus, whom we all recognize as our greatest exemplar, from a con-



206 EDUCATIOX OF MAN.

viction which is wholly one with our innermost being, says, " Suffer

the children to come unto me, and forbid them not ; for of such is the

kingdom of heaven." And is not this as much as to say, " Do not for-

bid them, for there works at least-in them unbrokenly the life given

them by their heavenly Father, and a free unfolding of this life is as

yet not grudged to them ? " And do we not recognize in this, as in

all the expressions of Jesus, the voice of God ? Now to whom shall

the educators listen,— to God, or to us men?

And could they do so, whom should they cheat,— God, or men ?

God they could not cheat, and men they ought not to cheat ; therefore

they should obey God more than us men, and should state that theywill and should obey God more than men; therefore they should

rather give no education at all than a wrong and distorted one.

For God, not prejudiced men, gave to genuine educators their voca-

tion ; for only in the all-sided development of man and of his spirit-

ual power in accordance with the laws of Natm-e and reason lies the

welfare of man and of humanity, and every other course of develop-

ment of the human race exerts an obstructive influence on the develop-

ment of humanity.

Our domestic and family education is most superficial and inco-

herent just in reference to all-sided development of oui'selves in out-

ward, visible works, by outward creating and doing, in accordance

with the laws of reason and of Xature ; therefore our family education

above all requires schooling, that is, a starting-point, and a progress

conforming to the laws of nature and reason.

The outward representation of the spiritual in man, in and by

means of material, must now begin by his spiritualizing that which is

corporeal and in space ; by his giving to it life and spiritual reference

and significance.

This course of development also expresses itself in that of the

human race. The corporeal in space, with which the developing and

forming representation of the spiritual in man is to be connected,

must necessarily in outward form already bear within itself, and

express, the law and conditions of inner development ; this is the

rectangular, the cubical, the beam-shaped, and brick-shaped.

The formations which this material conditions are either out-

wardly piling (building) or inwardly developing (forming).

The building, or piling-up, is with the child, as with the develop-

ment of the human race, and as with the fixed forms in Nature, the

first.




The importance of the vertical, horizontal, and rectangular, is the

first experience of the boy who represents himself outwardly by solids

equilibrium and symmetry follow ; so he rises from the simplest wall,

without and with connection, to the nipre compound works, and even

to the discovery of every architectural form which is possible with

the material given to him. The tabular and wainscot-like building,

which is actually only placing the blocks by one another, and side by

side, in a plane, has far less charm for the boys than placing them on

and over one another,— a clear proof of the all-sided striving of the

human spirit ah'eady expressing itself in the boy, and making itself

knownin his activities.

The linear grouping seems to come in later. So, therefore, the

course of development and formation of man is one which makes finer

and finer the corporeality, and spiritualizes it ; in the place of actual

connections of sticks comes in the drawing ; in the place of the super-

ficies, the painting, the color; in the place of the corporeal piling-up

of cubes, the corporeal developing from cubical fundamental forms,

that is, the actual moulding and forming.

Without considering this general course of training of man, which

easily catches the eye, which continues to actively develop, which con-

stantly advances from the outward and corporeal to the inward and

spiritual, and which is always pointed out by God and iN'ature, we

can nevertheless question of what use will these exercises be to my

children.

And, nevertheless, we should not have reached the standpoint of

total cultivation at which we now find ourselves, if a quietly-overruling

Providence had not led us just this way, either without om' knowl-

edge, or by our own perseverance in all the efforts and strivings of

man.

And man is indeed to repeat the works of humanity, at least in

himself, that they may not be to him empty and dead, that his opinion

concerning them may not be outward and spiritless;just as he is to

traverse within himself the paths of humanity that he may learn to

understand them and himself. And yet we say of the activity whichis here being conferred upon the boy, which is determined by spirit

and law for a conscious aim,— This my son does not need.

Perhaps not; it may be;

it may not be. I do not know; but this

I know, that your son needs power of action, activity, judgment,

endurance, reflection, etc. And all this he learns, and far more he

gains ; for inactivity, ennui, want of knowledge of what one is to do,




or at the best, stupefaction, are the most fearful of all the banes of

childhood and boyhood; but the opjôsite qualities are a universal

means of spiritual and bodily health, of all domestic and civil weKare.

The course of teaching determines itself, as it does everj^vhere,

when the true starting-point is found and impressed on the subject of

instruction, and the purpose is comprehended.

The best material for building representations is, at the beginning,

a number of wooden blocks whose front surface is always one square

inch, and whoselength increases by inches from one to twelve.

If, now, twelve pieces of each length are taken, two kinds of

lengths,— one and eleven, or two and ten, etc.,— form a tablet of one

square foot in surface, and one inch in thickness, so that all the blocks

taken together with some larger pieces amount to a layer of more

than half a cubic foot. It is best to keep them in a box whose inner

space is exactly the just-named size.

In the instruction such a building-box is used in various ways,

w^hich develop at the same time with the development of the boy.

The next material is, — blocks in reduced relation to the build-

ing-bricks, so that eight pieces make up a cubic foot on a smaller

scale, therefore in the proportion of two inches to an actual foot in

length. As, with the building-blocks before defined, there were an

equal number of each kind and length, so here, on the contrary, there

are a great preponderance of the brick-like blocks, at least five hun-

dred pieces ; the others from two to six fold length being always pro-

portionately smaller ; so also of one-half fold length. In like manner

the blocks are also distinguished as one, two, three, etc., lengths.

The first requisition now is, that the boys learn to distinguish,

name, and group the building-material according to its size ; and

during the building it is always kept apart, and arranged according

to size. The second is, that what has been done is to be each time

connected with exactly defining words spoken aloud : for example, I

have an alternately-connected (each brick covering the joining of the

two below^) vertical wall with perpendicular ends, one door-opening,

and two symmetrically-divided window-openings.

From one wall the advance is to a simple, rectangular, many-sided

building with only one door; then it increases in size and in the

number of the doors and windows ;lastly with division-walls and

room-like parts from a one-storied to a two-storied building, etc.




The wainscot-like buildings are similar, yet in many respects more

manifold.

The linear formations of sticks from at least one inch to five inches

in length allows a yet greater diversity of application for writing, for

drawing, for building.

The forms made from paper and cardboard have each their pecu-

liar sphere of formation and course of progress.

Still more forming and developing (but also only for those already

provided with a certain degree of mental power) is the moulding

from plastic, soft masses according to the laws given by the cubical

form ; but this, as well as the free modelling from the same material,

belongs more to the following later stage of boyhood.

drawing in net according to outward necessary laws.

Section 95.

The vertical and breast-line of man, the vertical and horizontal

(though we are so little conscious of it, and still less take it into

account) form the connecting link for the perception and comprehen-

sion of each form.

AVhen we comprehend forms, we refer all to these lines, and in

thought, though still unconsciously, draw these directions outside of

ourselves, especially in the visual plane ; our power of seeing and

thinking also repeats this act ; and, when this is done, there results a

network which enters into our consciousness, the more strictly and

sharply we give an account to ourselves of the forms of what we view.

But because, now^, the inner spiritual efficiency makes itself known

in many ways in the form, and in that which is conditioned by it

and because the recognition of this inner spiritual efficiency belongs

to the destination of man, since he by means of it recognizes himself,

his relation to his surroundmg, and thus the essence and being as

such— so also the development not only belongs to the comprehen-

sion, but is also essential to the education, of man, especially for

the representation of form ; is an essential part of the education of

man, of instruction; and (since the attainment to consciousness of

the form rises with the attainment to consciousness of the rectangular

references) the outward representation of the rectangular is, for the




human being to be educated, a means of development to the compre-

hension and representation of forms and figures, grounded in the

nature of man and of the subject of instruction.

If, now, the vertical and horizontal are repeated in equal propor-

tion in both directions, the result is a network formed merely of

squares of equal size. But, by the square as a connecting form, the

representation in the visual plane, as well as especially the enlarged

and diminished representation, is most easily possible; a fact which,

if it were needed, would yet more justify the use of the square.

The use of the triangle as a means of perception and representa-

tion proceeds from the square and rectangle, as is shown by the fur-

ther course of the instruction.

With the use of the square the degree of inclination is determined

by measurable relation, the sides of the square forming, as it were, the

supports to the oblique line ; but with the use of the triangle the

degree of the inclination is directly determined by the measmâble

relation to the right inclination.

As both find their application, both should be used in the instruc-

tion; but the latter should be used later, as a higher stage of the

development of power.

The second necessary requisition of this instruction is the easy

representation and equally easy destruction of the comprehended and

represented form. This requisition is best met by the slate and slate-

pencil. Therefore a slate with a grooved net formed of equal squares

is the first requirement of this instruction.

But, as the progress of the instructionshows, the

sizeof the

squares, or the distance between the parallel lines, is by no means

indifferent. For, if the distances are too small, all the representations

determined by them will be too insignificant : if the distances are too

large, the representations will be too extended for the power of sur-

vey of the scholar at this age. The best distance is that of a quarter

of an inch.

The first occupation of this instruction is to exercise the scholar

on this squared slate for the accurate representation and comprehen-

sion of the most essential fundamental relations of form, and the rela-

tions of size which they condition.

The course of teaching is connected with the former perceptions of

solids gained in building ; for there the boy learned to know one-fold,

two-fold, three-fold, etc., lengths by the instruction for corporeal rep-

resentations in space, of which we have just treated.




Thus, then, this instruction, as its a^^plication will especially show,

is connected with what has been already stated, that there shall be no

gap in the instruction, that nowhere in the instruction shall any thing

stand detached and isolated, but that all, like life itself, shall be a

living, coherent whole united by cause and effect.

The course of instruction is as follows :

The teacher draws, in a grooved side of one of the net-squares, a

vertical line of the w^hole length of the side, and says, while drawing

it, " I draw a vertical line."

After he has drawn the line, he says to the scholar, " What have I

done ?"

The scholar gives in answer the words before spoken by the

teacher, " Drawn a vertical line."

" Now draw in the same manner, along the slate, vertical lines of a

single length."

If this is done, and the lines are drawn to the satisfaction of the

teacher, he says to the scholar, '^

What have you done ?"

" I have drawn several vertical Imes," answers the scholar.

If several scholars begin this instruction at the same time (which

is advisable), after the work of each has been examined, the scholars

answer collectively to the question asked of all, "What have you

done ? " " We have drawn," etc.

On account of their many-sided and declared utility, it is a stand-

ing direction that these questions and answers should be employed

with this subject of instruction also ; for man must bring that which

is represented to word and thought, and the thought and word to rep-

resentation; as he becomes man through this mode of action essen-

tially.

Continuing the instruction, the teacher now draws a vertical line

of the length of two squares, and says, "I draw a vertical line," and

asks again, " What have I done ?"

" Drawn a vertical line."

" Is this vertical line like the others ?"

"No : it is twice as long as the other lines."

" What can we call this vertical line in comparison with the former

lines, in respect to length ? What must we name them in order to

distinguish them?"

" Vertical lines of two-fold length."




"Now what must we call the vertical lines you drew before, in

respect to length, compared with the line I have just drawn? "

"Vertical lines of one length."

" Draw a row of vertical lines of two-fold length."

After it is done, the teacher says, as before, " What have you

done ?"

And the scholars answer, " We have," etc.

In the same way the teacher draws lines of three, four, and five

fold length ; and the scholars do as he has done, and point it out by

words.

The scholars, by drawing the lines themselves on the net-lines,

greatly develop and strengthen their skill of hand, and power of com-

prehension and representation, and make clear their increasing power.

As comparison with M'hat is unlike is more important for the com-

prehension and retention of each thing than with that which is like, all

the vertical lines hitherto drawn are to be placed side by side in their

different lengths. The teacher does this while saying, "I draw a ver-

tical line of single length, of two-fold, three-fold, four-fold, and five-

fold lengths. What have I done?"

The scholars answer, as usual.

The teacher makes the five vertical lines again while he says, com-

prising them all in one clause, " I draw vertical lines of from one to

five fold lengths side by side."

Question and answer, as usual.

"Now draw vertical lines of from one to five fold lengths."

" Have you done it ? " " What have you done ?"

The instruction only goes up to a five-fold variety, because, in the

numbers up to five, all later numerical relations are already given, at

least announced ; they are in fact already announced in the first three

numbers, as these numbers include even and odd, prime, square, and

cubical numbers;yet these relations are almost all repeated in the

series of numbers up to five, and become thus sufficiently clear for

this representing pitrpose; since the six is only a two-fold three, and

a three-fold two;

but the seven is, in this respect, equivalent to thefive ; therefore this and all the following similar representing exercises

only go up to five.

AVith this placing of the lines side by side for the pui-pose of com-

parison, the teacher can employ also several little differences in the

manner of representation to meet the need of the scholar, if the latter

is still weak in comprehension and representation. The five lines




may increase in length downward, so that their upper ends touch one

horizontal line ; or they can increase upward, so that the lower ends

touch one horizontal line ; or the lines which have here been drawn

increasing may now be drawn, in both cases, decreasing; that is, of

from five-fold to one-fold length. These alterations are in the begin-

ning very useful (especially when one thing is to be practised under

several forms) in order not to weary the scholars ;however, their use is

justly left to the examining teacher.

The course with the vertical lines is now repeated with the hori-

zontal lines.

Hitherto the lines were not combined, and only lines of like kind

— vertical with vertical, and horizontal with horizontal lines— were

compared wdth respect to position. The more important step now

following is to represent vertical lines in comparison with horizontal,

and vice versa. In order to make this comparison most perceptible

and impressive, the two kinds of lines nuist be combined with one

another in a point.

The teacher draws, and says, " I combine in one point a vertical

and a horizontal line, both of which are of equal length, and each of

one-fold length. What have I done?

" Do the same."

" What have you done ?"

" Do the same on one of the long rows of your slate."

The teacher continues speaking, drawing at the same time, " I

combine in one point a vertical and a horizontal line of equal length,

each line being of two-fold length."

In the same way each line is to be of three-fold, then four-fold, and

lastly five-fold length.

The scholars do the same, and each time point out by words what

they have done.

Here also the comparison must again take place ; therefore the

teacher draws, and says, " I combine in one point each time a vertical

and a horizontal line, both of which are of equal length, and each line

of one-fold, two-fold, three-fold, four-fold, and five-fold length, anddraw them one within another."

The scholars say and do the same, as usual.

The comparison of the lines drawn one within another, as was

before the case with the comparison of the vertical and horizontal

lines of different lengths, can also take place in four different direc-

tions ; namely thus, |, thus]

, thus 1, and thusj

;but the two



214 EDUCATIOX OF ZSIAN.

connected lines of five-fold length afford the clearest comparison, on

account of the enclosing, as the following shows.

Jor

L

In this latter drawing, vertical and horizontal lines of equal leng-th

were compared with one another; vertical

andhorizontal lines

ofdifferent lengths must now be compared with one another in the same

way.

First where the horizontal line is twice as long as the vertical.


and a horizontal line, the horizontal line twice as long as the vertical,

the vertical line of one-fold length ; therefore the horizontal of ? "—" Two times one-fold length."

[On account of the continued development of the instruction, it is

not advisable to say " of two-fold," instead of saying, " of two times

one-fold length."]

The result is|

.

The scholars repeat, and draw the same as the teacher, and denote

by words what they have represented, as usual.

Now, vertical and horizontal lines are combined, the horizontal

being always twice as long as the vertical, but the vertical of tivo-io\d,

the horizontal, therefore, of two times two-ioldi length ; or the vertical

of three-io\di, therefore the horizontal of two times three-ioldi ; or the

vertical of /our-fold, therefore the horizontal of two times /owr-fold

or, lastly, the vertical of /re-fold, therefore the horizontal of two times

Jive-ioXA. length. Finally, all single representations are again drawn

one within another, for comparison, as before.

Secondly, the horizontal line three times as long as the vertical.

As in the preceding forms the horizontal line was always drawntwice as long as the vertical, so now the horizontal line is drawn th-ee

times as long as the vertical ; therefore, if the vertical line is of one-

fold length, the horizontal is of three times owe-fold ; if the vertical

line is of two-fold length, the horizontal is of three times two-iolA, etc.

the horizontal line determined by the vertical being of three times

three-fold, three times /ot/r-fold, and three times j^refold length. Lastly,



MAN AS A vSCHOLAR. 215

all the products are again drawn one witliin another, and, for the

purpose of comparison, the vertical lines are here always three squares

apart, as with the two-fold length of the horizontal lines they are two

squares, and with four and five fold length of the horizontal lines

always four and Jive squares apart, as the following exercises require.

As has been already said, the horizontal lines, in comparison with the

vertical, do not go beyond the^rs-fold length.

That greater skill, especially in grasping the relations, may be

attained, these exercises may be carried on in such a way that, as in

the preceding exercises the horizontal line was compared with the

vertical,the

vertical is

now comparedwith the horizontal. Here the

horizontal line is drawn first, and then the vertical, and the expression

in words is suited to this reverse manner of origination, the vertical

line being here considered as a part of the horizontal, as the horizontal

was before considered as a multiple of the vertical. This difference is

important, by no means on account of the number, which here lies

wholly beyond consideration, but merely on account of the manner of

origination, which is essential with pictorial representations.

In the preceding exercises the horizontal line is always a multiple

of the vertical, or, in other words, it is longer than the vertical ; but

now the vertical line must be drawn longer than the horizontal ; that

is, the horizontal line must be represented as a part of the vertical.


and a horizontal line; the horizontal line being one-AaZ/'as long as the

vertical, the vertical line of two times one-fold length, therefore the

horizontal of ? "— " One-fold length."

The result is I .

Now the vertical line of twice two-fold, therefore the horizontal

line of tico-io\<\. length ; the vertical line of twice three-fold, therefore

the horizontal line of three-io\(\. length; the vertical line of twice four-

fold, therefore the horizontal line of/owr-fold length; the vertical line

of twice five-fold, therefore the horizontal line of ^ye-fold length.

As in the preceding exercises the horizontal line was always drawnone-haK the length of the vertical, so now it is drawn one-third the

length of the vertical, when the vertical line is of three times one,

three times two, three times three, four, and five fold length.

The same course is pursued when the horizontal line is drawn one-

fom'th and one-fifth of the vertical.

If it is desired that the scholar, when drawing, \dew the vertical




line rather as a multiple of the horizontal, the origination of the

product is reversed, the horizontal line becoming the measure of the

vertical.

These reversals are at times important for the development of the

hand and eye.

These exercises have a multifarious effect upon the pupil ; namely,

perception and comprehension of the form;

development of the eye and hand for representation ; and

development and confirmation by this representation of one and

the same product in different ways ; complete unity and readiness of

eye and hand in the comprehension and representation of each form.The products of the activity of the scholars at this stage of instruc-

tion have been right angles, the sides of which were either equal, and

each from one to five fold length ; or the sides were unequal, and

either the horizontal was one, two, three, four, or five times the length

of the vertical, which was at each time of from one to five fold length;

or the vertical side was from two to five times as long as the horizontal,

which was each time of from one to five fold length.

These products, combined with one another in opposite positions,

and enclosing space, give rectangles, and, first of all, squares, to the

representation and drawing of which the instruction now advances.

The teacher draws, and says, '' I draw a square, each side of one-

fold length."

The scholars repeat, represent, and denote by word, as usual.

Now the representation goes, from drawing squares each side of

which is of two-fold length, up to squares the sides of which are each

of five-fold length. Lastly, comparing representation, and drawing of

them one within another.

Now comes drawing and representation of oblongs, which are at

first twice as long as wide , the M'idth of from one to five fold length

therefore the length of two times one, two, three, foui-, and five fold

length.

Next, oblongs three, four, and five times as long as they are wide

the width in each case being again of from one to five fold length.

The high quadrangles are carried through in the same way that

the long quadrangles have been.

Now comes comparing connection of the long and of the high

quadrangles in' each relation of size.

This connection can be extended or contracted according to the

scholar's stage of development, as is also the case with all the earlier

and later exercises.




The exercises hitherto have had in view principally, the training of

the eye ; those now following have in view the training of both eye

and hand;and the later exercises, of the hand alone.

The series of exercises now following represent the sequence of

squares and rectangles just demonstrated ; and here again the long

and high quadrangles, but, at the same time, with the diagonals

drawn within, and either to the right or left, or to both.

The object of the exercise is that the scholar may precisely com-

prehend and definitely represent the inclination of each line.

This precise comprehension and definite representation of the

lengthand

inclination of the lines, asthey

either actually are,or as

they appear on the visiial plane (in which, indeed, lies the greatest

outward power of satisfactory pictorial representations), we now

attempt to develop still more by the following exercises.

If the previous exercises have been carried through with all the

squares and rectangles (long and high quadrangles), they will also be

again grouped for comparison, so that one corner of all the rectangles

to be compared coincides in a single point, and two sides of the rect-

angles always coincide ; from the common end-point of all the rect-

angles the comparing diagonals are now drawn. From the drawing,

and the comparing view of these diagonals, compared'with each other

and with the rectangles in which they were drawn, now proceed the

general perceptions :

that the oblique lines collectively (except one) approach more

nearly either the horizontal or the vertical

that the oblique lines approach the more nearly to one of the right

lines, the riiore often the one short side of the rectangle is contained in

the other ; or that the oblique lines are the less oblique, the smaller the

one side of the rectangle is in comparison with the other

therefore that the obliquity of the lines depends upon the relations

of the two right lines which are, as it were, the supports of the

oblique ; the smaller right line, or support of the oblique, is, in the

present case, either one-half, or one-third, or one-fourth, or one-fifth of

the larger right line or support.

The inclination or obliquity of the oblique lines is now defined by

these recognized relations as half-oblique, third-oblique, fourth-oblique

and fifth-oblique lines.

The oblique lines which more nearly approach the horizontal line

may be still further distinguished as lying; and those which more

nearly approach the vertical, as standing lines.




The middle lines beUveen the tv.o i-ight lines which incline toward

neither, or whose supports are equal, are called whole oblique lines.

As the clear and quick comprehension and ready representation of

the relations of length and breadth of the rectangles w-as so indispen-

sably necessary to the comprehension of these inclinations of the

lines, so, again, the clear and quick comprehension and sure repre-

sentation of the inclination or slant, and of the length, of the oblique

lines, are highly important for the drawing practice.

Therefore the oblique lines are now made without previously-

drawn limiting quadrangles, and (which explains itself) each kind of

the oblique lines is again drawn as oblique lines of one-fold length

(when the shorter side of the I'ectangle is the length of one side of the

square of the net), as oblique lines of two-fold length (when the

shorter side of the rectangle is twice the length of one side of such a

square), etc., up to oblique lines of five-fold length (when the shorter

side of the measuring rectangle is five times the length of one side of

a square of the net)

.

At the end of this series the oblique lines of from one to five fold

length are again draAvn side by side for comparison, as was the case in

the beginning with the right lines.

The drawing and representation of the ichole oblique lines begins

the series of these exercises. Therefore the teacher draws, and says,

"I draw a wHole oblique line of one-fold length."

"ÂOiathaveldone?"

" Do the same."

" Denote it by words."

"Proceed in the same manner with whole oblique lines of from

two to five fold lengths."

Xow whole oblique lines of from one to five fold lengths are

drawn side by side, and either right-slanting (that is, drawn toward

the right side) or left-slanting (drawn toward the left side), and, in

both cases, either from or toward the one who is drawing. The

attention can even now be directed to the different origination of one

and the same oblique line (first of all whether it is drawn toward or

from the one w^ho is drawing), and the exercise of such drawing can,

even here, be taken up, foreshadowing its later introduction in its

whole consideration and execution.

The half-oblique, the third, fourth, and fifth oblique, the It/ing as well

as the standing lines, are carried through in the same way.

As before, oblique lines of like position and inclination were com-




pared with one another in respect to size and length, so, now, oblique

lines of different inclinations are compared, at first only lying; and

here again, first of all, they are all of one-fold, then all of two, three,

four, and five fold length ; then standing, and here also beginning with

one-fold, and advancing to five-fold length.

Xow standing and Is'ing oblique lines are compared with one

another, with the right lines, and the whole oblique lines, at the same

time ; and here, again, first on one, then on two, and at last on four

sides, each line being lastly of five-fold length.

The result is at last oblique lines in all the degrees of obliquity

and inclination hitherto used ; each line of five-foldlength

;

and all

running out from the middle, like rays.

As here all the oblique lines are drawn radiating from a middle,

they must also, to exhaust the whole, be drawn rimning toioard one

another around a middle.

By the totality of what has been hitherto given, the scholar is now

enabled to draw readily, in the net, each right and oblique line of

each inclination and in each position used, running to and from each

other ; and consequently the preliminary exercises in which the

scholar drew lines according to precise outward law, and thus devel-

oped in himself the comprehension and representation of the lines in

active union, are ended.

The last results (the radiating and encircling), which are distin-

guished from each of the former ones by grouping and representing

in themselves all the former exercises, also point out the end of these.

This concluding grouping of representation comes before the eyes of

the scholars, and the teacher connects his questions with it.

" Do these representations which you have drawn make any other

impression on you than the former ones ?"

'' Yes."

" In what does this impression consist ?"

All the scholars will in their answers, in whatever way, always

return to and concur in the statement, that in both representations all

the lines refer to and from a middle on all sides, and that this unitingmiddle unites lines opposite to each other, yet like in inclination; of

different lengths, yet the opposite of the same length ; that therefore

these lines represent a whole, concluded in itself.

The teacher gives the name '^figure" to this wliole.

Some of the scholars also will immediately say that the lines last

drawn /roTw and toward a middle, or around a middle, in contrast to

the earlier ones, represent di, figure.



220 EDUCATrO^" OF MAX.

The teacher now develops with the scholars the properties and

nature of a whole, a figure, as that which is composed of parts (here

lines) which are relatively opposite to, yet like, one another, proceed-

ing from a visible middle (as with the radiate form), or from an invis-

ible middle (as with the encircling form), and combined to a unity,

therefore necessarily symmetrically combined.

This conception of a whole (here of the figure) is multifariously

viewed in, and demonstrated by, the two last products, and should be

frequently discussed, that complete clearness of mind and word may

be attained.

From this point there now comes in a quite new stage of instruction

in drawing, which at the same time points out a new stage of the devel-

opment of the scholar ; that of the spontaneous representation of

line-wholes from each individual kind of lines before practised, or

from several connected, limited by the determination of the net,

— the invention offigures.

Each spontaneous representation of the inner in and by the outer,

which is done in accordance with limitations outwardly given indeed,

but, as the scholar easily recognizes, necessarily proceeding from the

inner, is called invention.

The production of the course of teaching for the invention of

figures is reserved for the representation of the next stage of scholar-

ship ; and, in general, the representation of the many-sided, develop-

ing, comprehensive nature of this course of instruction, must be

deferred to the end of the demonstration of the whole instruction in

drawing, in order not to interfere with the true culture of man.

He alone who has not only applied it to and with others, but also

especially to himself, can truly judge of the effect and character of

this course of instruction, as is in general the case with all instruction

which, with insight, aims at the awakening of powers and life, and at

dexterity and certainty of representation.

These indications will suffice for this self-appropriation of this

course of instruction, at least in what is most essential for self-develop-

ment and the development of others, especially for him who followsit from stage to stage, doing and representing it himself, and so finds

in himself its silently-ruling, simple law.

Tlie employment of this instruction would fill one of the greatest

gaps in our country and city schools, and should therefore be lacking in

none, which fact clearly shows itself to every investigating and clear-

sighted person, since this instruction makes a demand upon the senses,



MAN AS A SCHOLAR. 22l

and through these upon the thinkiug power, and so makes the scliolar

intellectually, and, by his manual dexterity, outwardly, corporeally,

and uniformly active, and thus removes the extremely harmful emmi

and idleness, and the injury thereby resulting, from the scholar on

whom the teacher cannot at the moment bestow his attention. This

is essential for the school, but, besides this, the method of instruction

gives as a dowry for life the development of the eye for the recogni-

tion of form and symmetry, and the training of the hand for the rep-

resentation of these; and where is there a relation and efficiency of man

in life which does not demand the employment thereof as essential ?

Also the great injury of the lack of development for comprehen-

sion and representation of form and symmetry in our citizens, espe-

cially our mechanics, as well as in the countrymen, has been ah-eady

impressively mentioned.

COMPREHENSION OF COLORS IN THEIR DIFFERENCE AND SIMILARITY;

especially by representing them on already formed sur-

faces with predominating attention to already madeforms ;

painting of pictures in outlines ;later with pre-

dominating attention to colors ;painting in net.

Section 96.

Every one to whom the life of the boy is not wholly unfamiliar, in

whatever station he may be, will confess that the child, and especially

the boy, at the beginning, needs to have a clear idea of color and the

relations of color, to become conscious of and discern them, and, for

this end, to employ himself with coloring materials, with colors. He

will grant that the life and creation with colors belongs in and to

early boyhood, though in different degrees with different individuals.

Can it be otherwise ?

The general cause of all activity in the child requires him first of

all, in every possible individuality and form, to develop his powers,

qualities,

and capacities; thatis,

the totality of thelife

hefeels in

himself, and to exercise and to use each of these.

But here comes in the second more necessary principle for the

inner spiritual development in itself, without being able to point out

any definite direction of it : are not all colors more or less determined

by the influence of the everywhere extended activity of light ?

Therefore color and lioht are in most intimate connection.




And are not color and light again in most intimate connection

with the activity, elevation, and change of life ?

Therefore do 'not life and light, thongh it be at the first only

earthly light, point toward the heavenly, in which alone it has its

existence? etc.

This high significance of color, remarked or anticipated by the

boy (as well as the form in Xatnre from another side of the consid-

eration), as it were, as an embodiment of the earthly light, the light

of the sun, as a visible demonstration of its uatm'e ; this anticipation

now of penetrating thus by the colors (by the penetrating into and

appropriating the nature of the colors) into the nature of the earthly

light, of the sunlight, ma}^, though unconsciously to the boy himself,

be the most real innermost spring of his liking to employ himself

with colors ; this may be strictly said to be boyish experience.

We say indeed, " Colors are gay ; it is their gayety that attracts

the children, and gives them pleasure."

Good ; but then Mhat is gayety ?

Is it not the effect of a cause (the light) in different appearances

(colors) ?

Is it not the effect of an essence (light) in different forms

(colors)

It is positively not the gayety as an outward appearance which

attracts the boys, and gives them pleasure, else the gayety as an out-

ward appearance would satisfy the boy when he possesses it. But it

does not do this, neither is this done by the quantity, the mass ; but

the expression, the finding of the inner coherence, the power to spirit-

ualize it, does satisfy him.

If it were the quantity that satisfied the boy, he would feel quieted

when surrounded by it, and we should not so often hear it said to the

dissatisfied boy, "Do tell me what you want; you have that and that

and that, and are you not yet contented ?"

The boy, even in childhood, seeks unity, expression, and coherence

of life;he seeks life in general.

Thechild is

charmed by the gayety, because in the manifoldnesshe recognizes the unity, the inner coherence. Hence he loves the

colors in their groupings and unions, because by means of them he

comes to the knowledge of one inner unity.

But notwithstanding the high significance of this tendency in the

boyhood of man, how do we meet it ?

We give the development for the understanding and use of colors

in a very casual way.




We do indeed give the boy colors and brush, like so many otlier

things, as one gives food to animals, casually, and also with good

intentions ; but the boys throw about the colors as they do the other

playthings, and as the animals do the food which does not suit them.

What should they do with them (the colors) ? They do not them-

selves know how to put life and union into the colors, and we do

not help them to do it.

However separate and different form and color may be, yet they

are to the young boy just as unseparated as body and life.

Indeed, the comprehension of colors seems to the boy, as perhaps

to mankind in general, to come through the form, and also the form

seems to come out by means of the color.

Therefore the understanding of color must at first be connected

with the understanding of form ; and the comprehension of form

with that of color : color and form are in the beginning an undivided

unity.

Since, now^, color and form appear at first to the boy as an undi-

vided whole, but bring each other to the knowledge and insight of

the boy, so, wîth the efforts to cultivate the sense of color in man byinstruction and teaching, by means of perception and of his own

representation, there is a threefold subject for consideration

Fh'stly, that the forms which the boys are to point out and repre-

sent be (what is most satisfactory) simple and definite

Then, that the colors be as pure and decidedly clear as possible,

and correspond (at least approximately) to those of the object, espe-

cially of the natural object

Finally, that the colors should be understood as much as possible

in their relations to one another as they are actually shown in Nature,

in theii' opposite conditioned and separating unions, or in their con-

fluent unions.

As the colors themselves must be as definitely comprehended as

possible in respect to their impressions, they must also be connected

with the word w^hich best defines them

First the pure colors by themselves, as red, green, blueThen according to their intensity,— dark, high, bright, etc.

Then the single colors in respect to their kinds and mixtures.

Here a double distinction takes place

First comparison of colors with the objects, as rose-red, sulphur-

yellow, sky-blue ; thus defining and naming the kinds of color by the

objects in connection with which tliey are most frequently found




Or by the comparison of the colors with each other, as a blue-red,

a green-yellow; or approximately, greenish-yellow, bluish-red.

In general all the definitions of color must at first proceed from

such natural objects as these colors are predominantly, and in the

greatest unalterability peculiar to : when they are fixed in the mind

of the pupil these definitions can also be carried on to the colors of

other objects.

The names of colors which are derived from objects must as often

as possible be viewed in the object themselves, such as violet-blue.

With the first instruction but few different definitions are investi-

gated;

but care is taken that these definitions be clearly retained, andgiven again with precision.

Likewise, in the use of coloring materials, but few colors are given

to the boy at the same time ; but these colors should be as decided as

possible. The secondary colors are later derived from the principal

colors, as far as is practicable, and presented to the scholars.

The surfaces to be colored must at the beginning not be too

small, and it is best that they should refer to perceptions of Nature,

as, in general, the instruction must be connected with the nearest

surrounding objects, and proceed from these, as usual ; for instance,

leaves, large flowers, butterfly wings, and birds.

The color of quadrupeds and fishes is too indeterminate.

Yet seeking and striving to represent natural objects especially, in

their peculiar colors, will make the scholars observe so much the more

the natural colors of the natural objects, to which they can be led by

their own questions

" How shall I paint the trunk of this tree, this flower?"

The more independent now the comprehension of color is, and the

less it is dependent on the object, the more are the colors represented

on their own account; but still in representing forms.

If the color is now viewed as wholly independent, having, as it

were, stripped off the form, form retreats in the instruction, and color

comes out on its own account.

The form of the representation is again connected wath the squarenet for many reasons which are foimded in its use.

The coloring material is most advisably, sap-colors.

The instruction itself is very easily attached to the life of the boy

hundreds of germs show themselves in boy-life ; each circle has, and



MAX* AS A SCHOLAR. 225

should have, its peculiar germs;rightly grasped the instruction will

flow through them into the life of the children, and life will come into

the instruction.

I will write down what I saw and see ; the more favorable the

relations, the more judicious the beginning; relations cannot be made,

but must be utilized.

Almost a dozen boys, of the same age as those for whom this

instruction is destined, sm-round their teacher, as sheep do their

shepherd. As the shepherd leads the sheep to fresh pastures, the

teacher is to lead the boys to joyous activity ; for it is Wednesday

afternoon when the usual school-instruction is ended, and to-day there

is no call to other activity. It is autumn, and the desire for painting-

has already been often expressed by the lively boys of this happy

circle ; for the autumn will perhaps invite the boys mostly to paint-

ing, to representations of color, since the colors in nature are in the

late autunm in large masses, and various ; and each boy has already

tried in his own way to fulfil this desire.

" Come, let us paint," says the teacher. " You have already

painted, and painted a good deal ; but the painting itself, like that

which you painted, does not please you long ; for it is not cleai'ly and

exactly painted. Come, let us see if we can do better together. But

what shall we paint that is not too difficult for us, for we wish to learn

how to paint; therefore what we paint must be simple and of one

color."

Teacher and scholars quickly find that leaves, flowers, and fruit

are the easiest things to paint.

Leaves are chosen ; for the beautiful, gay, red, yellow, brown, etc.,

trees, and the beautiful colored leaves which with soft rustling have

detached themselves from the branches in the beautiful autumn days

and covered the ground around the trees with a gay carpet, have whis-

pered much to the boys, and the boys have gladly brought the leaves

home, in bouquets and wreaths.

*' Here are leaves in outlines " (the teacher has collected them for

this purpose), " look at them;

how will you paint them ?"

" Green."— " Red."— " Yellow."— " Brown."

" Which leaves would you paint green ? which red ? which

brown ?"

" Why would you paint these yellow?"

" AVhy paint these red ?"

The teacher now distributes the colors, which are preferably fine




water-colors, and rubbed on small four-cornered glass tablets ; the

colors can also be given to the scholars in the beginning, of a suitable

degree of fluidity, in little paint-saucers.

The first point is correct perception and designation of color ; it

need scarcely be mentioned that a scholar cannot as yet give the

leaves their exact color, but only that which most closely approximates

to it, since the subject in hand is not so much representation of the

object, as comprehension of the colors and management of the color-

ing-matter. Symmetrical laying-on of the colors, keeping within

bounds, etc., are the most essential points which are yet to be

observed. It is yet to be understood that the scholar should hold his

body in a proper position for free motion of the arm, hand, and

fingers.

The scholar should not go from one color to another until he has

some government of his material, because each coloring-matter

requb-es somewhat peculiar treatment.

The advance from leaves is to flowers. For this purpose, such

flowers are chosen as have large one-leaved flower-crowns, as well as

flowers with only one color or a few determinate and strictly-bounded

colors, such as the bluebell, the yellow primrose, the yellow narcissus,

etc. ; likewise single flowers are chosen instead of double ones, and the

flowers are painted in a full front or a whole side view.

From flowers and objects of only one color, we pass on to those

which have two colors, but distinctly separate colors, such as the con-

vohmlus, auricular, vetch, pea-blossom, etc.

The next advance is to objects having three colors.

An effort is here made at least to comprehend the colors as clearly

as possible, to represent them as well as possible, and to give them

the most precise designation possible by words, although, at this stage

of cultivation, each of these attempts will seem still very incomplete.

But what feeling will be here awakened in the scholar ! and the

desire for accurate designation, and clear insight into at least the out-

ward relation of the colors to one another, will be aroused.

So the colors become less and less dependent on form;

they comeout more independently, and require more independent observation.

Besides, the pupil now wishes to employ himself longer with each

color, to rightly appropriate its character and its impression ; for he

wishes to control it, and feels the insufficiency of his knowledge and

use of it hitherto.

Therefore now comes representation of the colors purely, without

the essentiabiess of form, in surface-spaces determined by the net.




The first consideration of these exercises is to put the colors into

certain spaces, rising from smaller to larger in constantly continuing

or interrupted surfaces, in legitimate degrees of strength, without

overrunning the lines. Therefore surface-spaces of at first one, then

two, etc., up to five net-squares constantly continuing (that is, touching-

sides), and interruptedly continuing (touching corners), are represented

in each color. In this way, the scholar obtains a clear knowledge of

the peculiarity of each color by itself, and then of the management of

each. These exercises begin with pure red, pure Hue, and pure

yelloic.

To them succeed the exercises with the pure secondary colors,—jûre green, pure orange, and pure violet-blue (purple).

Why is each series begun with red and green"?— Experience teaches

that these two colors come the closest to the boys, and are liked the

best for the beginning of the series.

As one color only has hitherto been used in constant or interrupted

planes, so now, in like manner, two, then three, till finally all six of

the colors hitherto used singly, are connected according to the two

principal references, so that either the long sides of the five-squared

surfaces last originated are at the same time the mutually-touching

surfaces of the different colors, or the square sides lying on the cross-

line.

The order and sequence of the colors goes from blue to green,

yellow, orange, red, violet, as the most suitable, and also as most har-

monizing with the colors in Xature.

The last appearances in this stage of development are four color-

wholes, similar to the two line-w^holes in the line-drawing in net.

They proceed collectively, according to law, from the thing itself, and

bring to view the sequence of colors, limited by a middle to which

they refer, in all the directions given by the net.

These four color-wholes show an essential two-fold difference

The different, equal, rectangular, colored surfaces are continuous

in themselves, and joined to one another by the long sides, therefore

in vertical and horizontal directions appearing sharply defined;

orThe different color-surfaces are interrupted ; the squares of like

color only touch at their corners in the direction of the diagonal line

of the net, and the different-colored, interrupted surfaces are also

joined in the direction of this diagonal.

Each of these two color-wholes, like the line-wholes, has in itself a

two-fold difference, the one referring to a visible middle, and also



228 EDIJCATIOX OF MAN.

going out from it ; the other referring to and enclosing an invisible

middle.

With the representation of these four color-wholes this stage of

instruction closes. The independent free invention of color-wholes,

according to the law^s given by the course of teaching and the thing

itself, similar to the invention of figures in the net; the more

extended comprehension of the colors in their degrees of strength, or

shades ; the comprehension and imitation of the forms of Nature, in

and by the square forms ; — this more extended demonstration of the

farther course of instruction for the development of the sense of

color, thecomprehension and representation of color, belongs to the

next stage of boyhood and instruction.

However insignificant the degree, and however small the extent to

wiiich the instruction in this subject has developed, yet experience

shows that it has already a manifold effect upon the scholar. Like

song, it ennobles the sentiments, and the whole natm-e of man,

vivifies the sense of comprehension of colors in Xatare, and thus

heightens the sense of Nature and of life. The further influence in

the other subjects of instruction, as well as in outer life, comes out

clearly to him before whose inner sense the requirement of both lies.

PLAY, THAT IS, FREELY-ACTIVE REPKESEXTATION AND EXERCISES

OF EVERY KIND.

To what has been already written concerning play belongs the

following.

The plays of boys of this age, that is, the freely-active employ-

ments of this age, show a three-fold difference ; they are either imita-

tions of life and of the phenomena of actual life ; or they are the

freely-active applications of w^hat has been learned;

or they are com-pletely spontaneous, symbols and representations of the spirit of each

kind of object by materials of every sort, and, in the latter case, either

according to the laws contained in the object of play, and material for

play, which laws the boys seek out, to which they subject themselves,

and which they follow and obey ; or, according to the laws of man

himself, the laws of thought and sensation. But in each case the plays




of this age are, or should be, pure manifestations of the strength and

courage of life ; they are the products of the actively-ruling fulness of

life, and pleasure in life in the boy.

The plays at this time therefore presuppose inner life and anima-

tion, active vigor of life, and a genuine outward life ; where these are

lacking, or were before lacking, there is also lacking at this time any

genuine play which, bearing true life in itself, awakens, nourishes,

and heightens life.

In this is founded the remark of a youth who had played a great

many of such boyish plays which had bloomed out from his inner

nature, when he said,

—in reference to

boys whoare of

theright

agefor these plays, but whose life is not awakened for them, or is dulled,

and who now idly lounge around, getting in their own way, as it

were,— "I do not understand ; these boys cannot play at all;yet

how many plays we had at their age !

This fact makes it clear that the play at this age must be guided,

and the boy developed for it ; that is, his individual life (his school-

life, and his life of outward experience) must be made so rich that it

must necessarily break forth in joy from within, like the blossom

from the swelling bud. Joy is the soul of all that is done by the boy

of this age.

The plays themselves may be and are plays of the body, either

exercising powers and dexterity, or purely as the expression of the

spring and pleasure of the life within ; or plays of the senses, exer-

cising the hearing, such as hiding, etc., exercising the sight, shooting-

plays, and color-plays, etc. ; or plays of the intellect, plays of reflection

and judgment, draughts, etc. As such they are already arranged and

considered, though they are but rarely suited to the true object of

play, the spirit of the play is but rarely comprehended, and the plays

are but seldom managed in accordance with the needs of the boy.

the relation op stories and traditions, of fables and fairy-stories, connected with the events of the day, of the

season, and of life.

Section 97.

The sensation and feeling of one's own present life in one's pwn

breast, the personal thinking and willing, making themselves known




almost unconsciously, almost only as an impulse in one's own mind,

are the direct personal perceptions of boys of this age, as they are

indeed the most important perceptions for mankind in general ; for

man understands other things, the life of others, and the action of

other powers, only in as far as he understands himself, his own

power, and his own life.

But the comparison of a thing with itself cannot and does not

lead to the knowledge and insight of the thing ; therefore the personal

present life (the phenomena of the inner life, thoughts, feelings, sen-

sations), compared with itself, does not bring its natm-e, its cause,

and its significance, to the knowledge and insightof

anyone. In

order to become clear itself, it requires to be compared with some-

thing else, something different ; and certainly every one knows that

comparisons at a certain distance are more effective than comparisons

with objects which are too near.

Such points of comparison for the personal life which the boy

himself perceives, in which boys whose life is especially active see

their own life and its phenomena as in a mirror, and measure it by

and with these points, are given now by the perception of the life of

another.

The feeling of perception of personal life, of the stir of life, is

crushed down, or disappears involuntarily and irresistibly, if the boy

cannot grasp it, if he cannot become conscious of its nature, its cause,

and its result ; but the active mind of the capable, vigorous boy,

seeks, wishes, and requires this ; indeed, it is his greatest need, it is

that which preserves his inner life.

This is the most essential reason why boys like so much to hear

stories, traditions, and fairy-tales, and prefer them when they begin

with the statement that they have actually happened at some time, or

that they lie altogether only in the province of intellectual activity.

The power which scarcely yet sprouts in the mind of the boy

comes to him in the tradition, in the fairy-tale, and in the story,

grown to a complete plant, with blossoms and fruits which are most

beautiful, but as yet scarcely dimly conjectured.How heart and mind expand, how the spirit strengthens, how

freely and vigorously life unfolds, when the comparison is remote

As it is not the gayety of color as such which charms the boy

in the flowers, but a spiritual, invisible truth lying far deeper, so,

in fairy-tales and in traditions, it is not the gay forms he meets which

charm him, but the spirit and the life, by which the boy can measure




his own spirit and life. It is the du'ect perception of fettered life,

and of freely-acting power working according to the laws contained

in it.

The story brings forward other people, other relations, other times

and places, other and even quite different forms ; notwithstanding

this fact the auditor seeks his image, he sees it, yet nobody can say to

him, " it is your image."

Have not many seen and heard, even themselves experienced, how,

first of all, children under the age which now unfolds its powers and

its life under our observant gaze, have heard their mother tell the

simplest littlestories (for example, of the birdie singing

andflying,

building its nest, and feeding its young) half a dozen times, and have

nevertheless repeatedly begged their mother to tell them again ?

But it is just the same with the boys whose life we would now so

much like to comprehend and penetrate.

" Do tell us something," often say those who are listening to the

companion who had already many a time willingly told them stories.

" I do not know any more. I have already told you all I know."

" Well, then, tell us this story, or this one."

" I have told you each of those already two or three times."

"No matter, tell them to us once more."

He tells them, and see how his auditors attend to each word ; how

they take each from his lips, as if they had never heard it before.

It is not desire for inactivity of mind which leads the boy whose

life is fresh to like stories ; it is not inactivity of mind which is

pleased by heaiing genuine life-breathing and life-awakening stories,

for see the strained attention of the listener. You can see how, with

the genuine story-teller, the inner life of the genuine listener is roused,

how he is carried out of himself, and how he thereby measures him-

self.

This proves that a great spiritual efficiency lies in story-telling;

that it is not the gay forms that enchain the boy ; that through it,

spirit speaks directly to spirit.

Therefore ear and heart open to the genuine story-teller, as flowers

open to the spring sun and the INIay rain. The spirit breathes in the

spirit ; the power feels the power, and absorbs it.

Story-telling is a real, strengthening spirit-bath ; it is a practising

school for the spirit and the power, a school for testing personal

opinion and personal feeling.

But, for that reason, genuine and, consequently, efficacious story-




telling is not easy ; for the story-teller must take life into himself in

its wholeness, must let it live and work whole and free within him.

He must give it out free and unabbreviated, and yet sta?id above the

life which actually is.

This standing above life, and yet grasping life, and being stirred

by life, is what makes the genuine educator. Therefore either youth

or age relate well. The mother relates well who lives only in and

with her child, and who knows no care but that of fostering its life.

The man, the father engrossed and fettered by life, who, while in

the wagon of life, has to curb cares, necessities, wants, and vexations,

will seldom tell stories well; that is, so that the story-telling shall

please the children, so that it will influence, strengthen, and elevate

their lives.

The brother only a few years older, the sister only somewhat more

advanced in age, neither of whom as yet know life in its rough actu-

ality, who are not yet fettered and hardened by life, but still stand

outside of it; and the much experienced grandfather and old man,

who looks on life from a higher standpoint, having either stripped off

or pierced through the hard bark of life ;

and the old, tried sei'vant,

whose heart is filled with satisfaction by the consciousness of faithful

fulfilment of duty,— these are the favorites of the listening boys.

There needs not the addition of a practical application, nor the

impressing of a moral.

The related life purely by itself, in whatever form it may be, even

if it only appears as an acting power, has made a deeper impression in

its sentiments, its effects, and results, than any practical application

and prominent moral added in words will and can nuike;for who

knows what was and is the need of the wholly opened mind of the life

aroused to feeling ?

We tell too few stories to children, and those we tell are stories

whose heroes are automata and stuffed dolls.

A good story-teller is a precious gift ; blessed is the circle of boys

that rejoices in one; he effects much; he has an ennobling effect upon

them, so much the more ennobling that he does notappear to intend

it. Warmly and respectfully do I greet a genuine story-teller, and

Mdth fervent gratitude do I reach to him my hand. Yet he has a

better greeting than mine. See what joyous faces, what shining eyes,

and what glad jubilee, welcome him, and what a blooming circle of

glad boys press around him, like a garland of fresh blossoms and

twigs around the bards of joy and bliss.




Yet, with boys of this age, spiritual activity fructifies, especially

in union with bodily action ; therefore the awakened and aroused

inner life should immediately have an outward object by which it can

make itself known and abiding.

Therefore, for boys of this age, the listening to stories should be

always combined with activity, for the purpose of bringing forth out-

ward wôrk.

But, in order to be especially beneficial and effective, story-telling

should be also connected with the events and occurrences of life.

An apparently insignificant occurrence in the life of a neighbor

develops to-day to an event of such importance, that it not only deter-

mines his inner peace as well as his outward welfare, but also influ-

ences the lives of many others.

Wliatever was similar to this event in the personal life of each

individual, or occurred to friends of his,— all are combined with the

event of the day ; and see how each boy, excited by the actual event,

is all ear.

He takes each story as a conquest, grasps each as a treasure, and

inserts into his own life, for his own advancement and instruction,

what each story teaches and shows.

Section 98.

Outdoor life, life in Nature, is pre-eminently important, especially

for the young human being, for its effects are developing, strengthen-

ing, elevating, and ennobling. It gives life and higher significance

to all.

Therefore little excursions and longer walks are essential as an

excellent means of education and schooling, even in beginning boy-

hood and the first school-time.

Therefore if man is to attain his whole destiny, if he is to raise

himself to the highest stage he can reach on earth, and if he is to be avigorous whole, he must feel, know, and recognize himself as a whole,

as well with God and humanity as wdth Nature.

This feeling of the whole, in order to become itself a whole, must

grow up with man from an early period of his life. He must divine

the coherence of the development of Nature and the development of

man, of the phenomena of Nature and the phenomena of man; he



2o4 EDUCATION OF MAN.

must also divine Iheir reciprocal references, that is, the different im-

pression on one and the same man conditioned by outward limitations

proceeding from Nature, or by inward limitations proceeding from

man, so that man may as much as possible penetrate into the phe-

nomena and character of Nature, and that it may become to him

more and more w^hat it should be,— a guide to higher perfection.

In this spirit of accord, nnion, and active coherence of all the phe-

nomena of Natm-e, and in the iêrception of the necessity by which,

from the nature of life and power, plurality proceeded and still pro-

ceeds from unity, manifoldness from singleness, the impression of the

greatfrom

theappearance of

the small,

—in this spirit

all longerwalks and shorter excursions of boys of this age are to be made, and

from this perception are to be considered what these walks and excur-

sions bring to view\

This is the reason why all boys on their excm'sions march forward

so vigorously in order to take into themselves quickly a great whole.

Jt gives them so much the greater pleasure to seek out the individual

parts, if a relatively greater whole has been already grasped, though

that whole may be by no means the greatest possible.

These short excm'sions and longer walks will make the boy look

upon the part of the country in which he lives as a whole, and will

make him feel Nature to be a continuous whole.

Without this, what would be the direct spiritual utility of all

walks for the pupil ?

They would deaden, instead of animating; they would empty,

instead of filling.

As man considers the air by which he is surrounded as belonging

to himself, and breathes in pure air for bodily health, so he wall con-

sider the pure clear Nature which surrounds him as belonging to

himself, and will allow his whole nature to be penetrated by the

spu-it of God wdiich dwells in Nature.

Therefore the boy should early view^ and recognize the objects of

Nature in their true relations and original connections ; he should

learn by his longer walks to know his own neighborhood from begin-ing to end ; he should roam through the adjoining country ; he should

accompany his brook or little river along its course from its source to

its mouth, and observe the local differences in respect to the soil ; he

should wânder about on the heights that the ramifications of the

mountains may be plain to him; he should climb to the highest

points, that he may survey the connection of the whole surrounding

country, and be able to describe it to himself.




It should be made clear to him, by looking at the thing itself, how

the form and formation of hill and vale, and the course of the river,

reciprocally condition one another.

He should look at the products of the hills, of the valleys and

plains, of' the earth and water, in the places in which they are ; he

should endeavor to search out in the higher country around him the

places from which the stones rolled on by the water, and the river and

field-stones which the low country shows him, came, and in which

they were formed.

The boys, in their walks and excm^sions, should see the life of the

animals and plants in their usual dwelling-places; they should see

how some sun themselves, and absorb light and warmth, and how

others seek darkness and shadow, coolness and moisture.

They should see how the objects of Nature which seek shadow

were in close connection with that which gives shadow, and, as it

were, produced by it ; and those which seek light and warmth were in

close connection with that which creates the supply of light, and

develops wârmth.

During these walks the boy should seek out on many sides the

way in which the place of abode and the food seem to condition the

color, even the form, of the natural objects Mhich have higher

activity of life, as, for instance, the caterpillar, the butterfly, and the

insects Ihat infest plants, agree in form as wêll as color with the

plants on which they belong ; nor should the fact escape his attention

that this outward similarity affords protection to the creatures, and

that the higher orders of the animal kingdom utilize this similarity

for their protection with instinct that is almost reflection. For exam-

ple, the finches, in building their nests, make them almost indistin-

guishable from the branches and trees on which they are placed

indeed the time of life and the expression of color of all creatures is

in harmony with the character of the time of day, and therefore with

the eifect of the sun ; day-butterflies have bright vivid colors ; night-

moths, brown or gray, etc.

By his own observation and his own discovering, by his ownnotice of this continuous and vivid coherence of xâture, by the direct

view of Nature itself, not by explanations in words and ideas for

which the boy has no intuition, there shall dawn upon him early, and,

however dimly at the beginning, yet more and more clearly, the great

thought of the inner, continual, vivid connection of all things and

phenomena in Xature.




But, first of a,ll, the life, occupations, and calling of man, later,

his social relations, his character, his manner of thinking and acting,

especially his morals, his manners and customs, and his language—all this will all come to the boy on his excursions in its great coher-

ence with Nature.

This, however, must be left in the indication, as it is in reality, to

the later stages of development and cultivation of the boy and youth.

From the consideration of the means of instruction and manner

of teaching thereby conditioned, which necessarily coincide with thestriving of man toward development, the requisitions for the knowl-

edge of number, of space, of form, of exercises in speech, of writing,

and of reading, come out clearly and definitely from the consideration

of the outside world and the practice of language; and in these

branches of instruction were denoted the points at which each of

these subjects grows forth of itself, as a particular branch, from the

more general teaching before given.

Since, now, these subjects of instruction, in accordance with their

nature, are introduced later than those before treated, and come in

for the first time when the fundamental teaching from which they

develop has been carried through to a certain point, the consideration

and accomplishment of them is postponed till the former studies are

wholly completed.

But the above-named subjects of instruction belong in the second

half of the time of boyhood now^ before our consideration. There-

fore the particular consideration of them necessarily joins du'ectly

that of the subjects of instruction hitherto considered.

knowledge of number.

Section 99.

The development of number, the separation of the perception of

the object and the impression of the thing from the conception of

number, and thus the capacity of counting at least to ten, and then

to twenty, was clearly presented and much used by what has gone

before.




By this manifold application of number, the scholar soon finds the

necessity of a more fundamental, comprehensive knowledge of num-

ber ; and thus the science of number is introduced, and comes to him

with necessity and pleasure, desired by him as an especial subject of

instruction.

So it should always be. Xo new subject of instruction should

come to the scholar, of which he does not at least conjecture that

it is grounded in the former subject, and how it is so grounded, as

its application shows, and concerning which he does not, however

dimly, feel it to be a need of the human spirit.

Number," as quantity and size, shows at the first glance the prop-

erty which it has in common with the different objects, especially

with the objects of Nature, of a double origination,— the origination

from without by accretion, and that from within by growth and

increase from itself.

But as number shares with the objects of Nature its manner of

origination, so also does it share the property of disappearing, of

vanishing, of annihilation.

But this annihilation also show\s a twô-fold difference; the one

being destruction from without; the other, dissolution from within.

But in every place where origination and annihilation, increase

and decrease, are found, there, also, is comparison, which again is

naturally either external or internal, according to outwardly visible,

or inwardly perceptible law.

And so, therefore, the science of number separates into knowledge

of the formation of number

according to outward, according to inward law;

the annihilation of number

according to outward, according to inward law;

and

the comparison of number

according to outward, according to inward law.

This inner coherence of Nature and number, of the laws of num-

ber and Nature, just pointed out, expresses itself so irresistibly now—when the essence of Nature comes so speakingly and actively near to

man that he can no longer reject the notice of the laws of Nature

which express themselves everywhere and repeatedly— that the

expressions, inorganic and organic formation, annihilation, and com-




parison of number powerfully impress themselves in an observation

and treatment of number in accordance with the laws of Nature and

reason, an observation and treatment which have already continued

fifteen years. (Jas. Schmid's Number, 1810.)

All instruction, and therefore, also, the instruction in arithmetic,

must meet not only the anticipation of the repetition of the laws of

Nature in many directions in the life, thought, and action of man,

which anticipation expresses itself early even in boyliood, but, in gen-

eral, the anticipation of a comprehensive proportion of law as active

as it is necessary, in all things ; consequently, instruction in arithmetic

must call attention to the laws of number, make them prominent,and bring the scholar to clear consciousness of them.

The prominence and vivid intuition of the laws of number, and the

exercise of quick comprehension of and penetration into the relations

of number, are of equal importance ; neither of them should be

repressed in favor of the other : the scholar must, at this stage, be just

as quick in numbers as he must be in perceiving and actualizing the

relations of number.

Therefore representation by himself, and consequent clear percep-

tion and comprehension of the relations of number to the quantity

itself;practice and repeated application of these relations ; survey

of the whole, bringing out the individual parts; and repetition- in

concert— are the most essential points to observe in this instruction,

as well as in each which treats of a similar subject.

The course of instruction proceeds from what has just been said,

and can easily be worked out by means of what is already known

concerning it ; wherefore the following indications will suffice :

1. Connection with the preceding.

Tests of the skill in counting.

Counting from one to twenty forward and backward continuously,

or leaving out and over-leaping some of the numbers.

2. Representation and view of the series of numbers as a con-

tinuous whole.

Count from one to ten, and make each time as many vertical lines

(of one square in length) as the word for the number points out; thus

with one,]

;with two,

1

1 and in a vertical direction, one below

another :—




(One) . . .I ;

(Two) ... II;

(Three) ...| M ;

(Four) ... Mil; etc.

" Have you done it ?"


" We have counted from one to ten, and have made each time,"

etc.

" Good;you have thus represented the natural series of all num-

bers from one to ten."

" What have you represented?"Rendering prominent, viewing, and becoming conscious of the

reciprocal relation between the word and the quantity, the number

itself.

Proceeding from the wôrd.

Teacher and scholar speak together, pointing to the represented

series :

One is|

(one one);

Two is1 1

(two ones);

Three is1 1 1

(three ones); etc.

Proceeding from the number or quantity.

Teacher and scholar speak together, pointing to the represented

series :

I

(one one) is one

I

I

(two ones) is two;

I I I

(three ones) is three; etc.

Word and quantity pass into one another, and appear as one : or

the number merely is looked at :—

I

one is one;

I

two is two;

I I

I three is three ; etc.

The whole is gone through by teacher and scholars, speaking

together as before.

3. Setting down, and considering the numbers as even and odd

numbers.

Teacher and scholars speak together as usual, looking directly at

the thing :—




I

one is neither even or odd;

I I

two is an even number;

I I I

three is an odd number ; etc.

The conceptions of even and odd numbers can here only be put

down, but receive later their confirmation.

It is well here to call the attention of the scholar to a great, widely-

prevailing law of Nature and thought, which is this : that, between

two relatively-different things and conceptions, a third always stands

in the middle, as it were, uniting both in itseK with a certain equi-

librium ; so here, between even and odd, a third, w hich is neither ; so,

in form, the right angle between the acute and obtuse angles ; so, in

speech, the open sounds betwêen the voice-sounds and the closed

sounds. A thinking teacher, and scholars roused to independent

thought, cannot but become attentive to this and other important

laws.

Representation of all even numbers in regular sequence up to ten.

" Represent all the even numbers up to ten, so that the spaces for

the odd numbers lying between may remain free and unoccuiîed ":—

II;

nil;

mill; etc.

Naming of this series as the natural series of all even numbers up

to ten.

The same with the odd numbers.

As soon as each scholar has represented each series on his slate, the

teacher represents it on a large blackboard, and the scholars, when

answering, must always have in view these actual representations of

number, either on the blackboard or their own slates ; they are also to

go through with it repeatedly with the teacher's pointing.

Single questions which proceed from the exercises ; for example,

I 1 1 1

(pointing to the number itself). " Which of the even num-

bers is four ?"

1 1 1 1

1

" Which of the odd numbers is five ?"

" How many even numbers are there from one to ten ?"

" How many odd numbers are there from one to ten ?"




" Are there more even or more odd numbers in the natural series

of all numbers from one to ten ?"

" Why are there more even than odd numbers ?"

4. Formation of the number by addition from the outside.

"AddI

to each number of the natural series of all numbers up to

ten, and see what comes out each time."

Recitation in concert with pointing :—

I

andI

are| | ;

I

I

andI

are| [ |

; etc.

Single questions.

" When I add ] to each number of the natural series of all num-bers up to ten, what results?

" There results again a natural series of all numbers, but from two

to eleven."

" If you add|

to a number, what kind of a number always

results ?"

" The next larger number."

" AddIto each number of the natural series of all even numbers,

and see what comes out."

Recitation in concert :—

I I

andI

are| [ |

, etc.

" IfI

is added to an even number, what kind of number always

results ?"

" An odd number."

"IfI

is added to each number of the natural series of all even

numbers, what results ?"

" The natural series of all odd numbers."

The same course is now pursued, and the same questions asked,

with regard to the numbers of the natural series of all odd numbers.

Bringing out and reciting in concert the two laws :—

I

added to an even number gives always an odd number

I

added to an odd number gives always an even number.

In the same way that I was hitherto added, 11 is now added to

each of the three different series. (The course of teaching is as

before.)

Bringing out, and reciting in concert the following laws.

When1

1 is added to a number, there results always the second

following number.

WhenI I

is added to each number of the natural series of all num-

bers, there results the natural series from three to twelve.




I1added to an even number gives an even number.

Iadded to an odd number gives an odd number.

WhenI

1is added to each number of the natural series of all even

numbers, there results a natural series of all even numbers from four

to twelve ; etc.

Ill, 1 1 1 1

, etc., are added in the same way.

By the addition of1 1 1

, there results always the third following

by the addition of] | | |

, the fourth following number, etc.

Hence this general law :—

If I add one number to another, there results a number as far dis-

tant from the other as the added number has units or ones.

" Add the next following number of the natural series of all

numbers from one to ten, and see what results."

Represent it on your own slates :—

I

andI I

are| j] ;

I I

andI I I

are Mill;

I 1 I

andI I I I

areI 1 1 I I I I ;

etc.

Recitation in concert, and bringing out of questions; for ex-

ample :—

" The third and fourth numbers are how much, or give what

number ?"

Law :—

When to each number of the natural series of all numbers from

one to ten, the next following number is added, there results the

natural series of all odd numbers from three to nineteen.

Proceed in the same manner with the series of even and of odd

numbers.

Bringing out and reciting in concert of the laws :—

An even number and an even number give always an even number.

An odd number and an odd number give always an even number.

An even number and an odd number give always an odd number.

General law :—

Two numbersof the

same kindgive

always an even number;

twonumbers of different kinds give always an odd number.

The next following number, added to each number of the natural

series of all even numbers, gives a series of even numbers, increasing

always hj four, from six to eighteen.

The next following number, added to each number of the natural

series of all odd numbers, gives a series of even numbers, increasing

always by four, from eight to sixteen.




As hitherto only two numbers were added together, three and more

must now be added together; for example :

—

II, II,and

I

are

how many?Begin with the smallest nnmbers, and at first do not let the

amount rise above thirty.

Here the questioning, and, as usual, the representation on their

slates by the children themselves, are xârticularly important. The

proof and the reason also i^roceed from the representation by the

children themselves.

It is important to add together, the 1st and 2d ; then the 1st, 2d,

and 3d ; then the numbers from the 1st to the 4th, etc., in the natm-al

series of all numbers.

Now recitation in concert, and bringing out of single questions.

" How much do the first and second numbers make ?"

" How much do the first to the third numbers make ? " Etc.

" What is the sum of all the nmnbers from one to ten ?"

"What is the sum of all the even numbers up to ten?"

" How much do all the uneven numbers up to ten make ?"

The following questions are very important.

" How great is the sum of i\\Q first and last numbers in the natural

series of all numbers from one to ten ?"

"What is the sum of the second number and the next to the last?"

" What is the amount of the third number and the third from the

last number ? " Etc.

" What are the amounts in all these cases ?"

Question in the same way with the series of even, and that of odd

numbers.

General law :—

The amounts of two numbers which are equally distant from the ends

of a regularly increasing series of numbers are always equal to one

another.

5. Contemplation of the composite unities.

"Represent on your slates the natural series of all numbers from

one to ten."

The teacher does the same on the blackboard.

The teacher now says, pointing to the blackboard, at which all the

scholars look :—

iis a one.

1

1 two ones thought of as a whole is a tioo.

1 11three ones thought of as a whole is a three, etc.




That which is thought of as an undivided whole is called a unit.

The teacher says, and the scholars repeat after him :—

I

one one is a simple unit

I I

one two is a compound (literall}', jmt together^ miit

I 1

1 one three is a compound unit, etc.

" Represent several twos on your slates."

" Represent several fours." Etc.

" Represent on your slates the natural series of all twos from one

two to ten twos."

" Can you also represent the natui'al series of tlirees or fours f"

Teacher and scholars together :—1

1 one two is neither an even nor an odd number of twos.

II II two twos is an even number of twos.

II II Ijthree twos is an odd number of twos, etc.

The treatment of the compound units is exactly like the treatment

of the simple units. Yet just on account of these compounds it may

be wêll to extend it considerably, particularly with bo3*s whose powerof comprehension and especially of summing up is weak.

A very important exercise, especially in reference to the relation of

number to Nature, but also in respect to the laws which lie hidden in

number itself and in other numerical relations is,—6. The representation of numbers under all forms.

" Can one of you represent the quantity of two in different ways ?

Whoever can, may' do it."

" How can you represent two ? "

"By two ones (| |) and by a two (||)."

" Can you also represent the three under different forms ?"

" Represent all the forms."

Ill, II I, I II, I 11.

" In how many Mâys can four be represented ?"

By1 1

II, II II,1 1 I

U1 1 I I.

M II;

that is, by a four, a three and

a one, two twos, etc.

With young and weak scholars go at most to seven.

It is especially important to seek out the law for the discovery of

all forms under which each number can be represented.

This law comes out very easily, if one only follows the course in

which and according to which the forms develop;yet on account of




the multifarious recapitulation and the greater survey which it

requires, the seeking-out of this law of ^NTature is suitably deferred to

the next stage of the contemplation of numbers, if scholars not

unusually advanced go through this course of teaching.

The law itself is as follows :—

Each following number gives in all (including all forms, even those

which are only different in position) twice as many forms as the pre-

ceding number gave ; or, to give an exact definition, the number of

the forms of each number is obtained by raising the number 2 to

as high a power as the number itself has units, minus 1 ; for example,

4 gives(4

— 1 =3)= 2^ = 8 forms.

7. The diminishing and destruction of the number from without

is carried through similarly to the formation of the number from with-

out, but reversed ; the corresponding reversed laws also are rendered

prominent, and brought to the knowledge of the scholars.

8. Formation of number from within according to inner law; or

formation of the numbers according to the law^ or the determining of

another number; or formation of the number by inner increase.

" Represent on your slates the natural series of all numbers from

one to ten ; take each number as often as there are units in one, and

see what comes out."

They represent

:

I, I, I;

II,. I, II;

III, 1, III; etc.

Now recitation in concert:

—There is one unit in one.

I

taken as often as|has units, or taken

]time, gives |

11 taken as often as

Ihas units, or taken

|time, gives

1

I I I

taken as often, etc.

Otherwise expressed :—

I

repeated according to the law of|

gives|

;

11 repeated according to the law of

|

gives1

1 ;

I I i

repeated according to the law of|gives

1 1 |; etc.

Still otherwise expressed, and repeated in concert :—

I

increased according to the law of|

gives|

I I

increased according to the law" of|

gives|

| ;

1 1

1 increased according to the law of|

gives1 1 1

; etc.




Otherwise expressed, and recited in common :—

1taken

]time gives

|

;

11 talien

|time gives

11 ;

1 11 taken

|time gives

| | ]

; etc.

Again :—

1,




Single questions are now asked, first from one series, then from the

other, and then from the same lines in both.

" Two times seven and seven times two are each how much ?"

" What is the difference in these two ways of making fourteen ? "

Series of the different ways of repeating the three and the four can

also be made, and each two series compared.

Xow single questions are asked indiscriminately.

" Six times nine are how many times one ?"

" If you take each number of the natm-al series of all numbers as

often as|has units, what always results ?

"

" Always the number itself."

" If you take each number as often as the1

1 has units, what hind

of a number results ?"

" Always an even number."

" If you take each number as often, as the1 1 1

1 has units, what kind

of a number then results ?"

" Always an even number."

" "What hind of numbers are two and four ?"

"Even numbers."" Xow what law follows from this ?

.^

" Each number taken an even number of times gives always an

even number."

" Take each number three and then five times, and see what

results."

" Even and odd numbers."

"Then the law?"

" Each number of the natm'al series taken an odd number of times

gives even and odd numbers."

Thus are the following laws to develop :—

An even number taken an even or an odd number of times gives

always an even number.

An odd number taken an even number of times gives an even

number.

An odd number taken an odd number of times gives an oddnumber.

9. Concerning the square numbers.

" Represent on your slates the natural series of all numbers from

one to ten ; take each number of the series as often as it itself has

units, and see what results."




Recitation in concert :—

1 , 1time gives

|

(one)

11,11 times gives

MM(four)

111, 111 times gives1 1 1 1 1 1 1 II (nine) ; etc.

" What have we done ?"

" We have taken each number as often as it itself has units," or

" We have increased each number by its own law."

" The number or quantity which results when I increase a number

by its own law^ is called a square number, or a square."

Single questions.

" What is the square of this or that number ? "

"Of what number is this or that number (for instance, 64) the

square ?"

" The number of which another number is the square is called the

root of this square, and also the square root."

" Can any number be taken a square number of times?"

" Yes ; for instance, five can be taken nine times."

"

Can a square number also be taken a square number of times?"" Yes ; for .instance, nine can be taken four times."

The further advance is manifest in the thing itself.

10. Representation of all forms in which each 'number can be

made by repetition ; or, representation of the different ways in which

each number can be formed by increase.

" Try in how many ways you can get|

|by increase."

" In two ways ; either by taking the|

|one time, or by taking

1two

times."

" Represent on your slates all the forms in which each number of

the natural series of all numbers up to ten can be formed by repeti-

tion or increase, and see what you remark about it."

" Do all numbers result in the same number of ways by repeti-

tion?"

"No. Several numbers, such as one, two, three, result only in

two ways by repetition."

" In what two ways do these numbers always originate ?"

" Either the number is increased by the law of the one (of unity),

or the one (unity) by the law of the number."

" Iûmbers which originate only in these two ways by increase are

called prime numbers."

" What are prime numbers ?"




" Name all the prime numbers up to thirty."

" How many prime numbers are there up to 10 ? to 20 ?"

" What one of the numbers up to thirty can be represented in the

most different ways by repetition ? "

11. Diminishing or destroying the numbers according to inner

law, or by repetition.

Tliis, as well as the division of the numbers (not of the unity)

which depends upon it and is conditioned by it, and the demonstration

of one number bei7ig contained in another, can be easily carried out

according to what has been hitherto presented.

Each person can now likewise easily accomplish—12. The comparison of the numbers according to outer, and

13. The comparison of the numbers according to inner laws, by

what has been hitherto pointed out.

The boy of this age who is at this stage of development should not

be carried beyond this point of comparison of numbers according to

the inner law. The consideration of numbers in relations which pre-

suppose a greater survey and a greater compreliension of number

belongs to the following stage of development of the boy, and will in

consequence be pointed out with it

n,

knowledge of forms.

Section 100.

The contemplation of the outer world and the language exercises

led, as was before pointed out, to the perception and consideration, to

the knowledge of form. Yet the objects of the outer world show, in

general, such a manifoldness of form, they are so complicated, and

therefore so difficult to perceive, and especially to define, that the

thing itself leads more and more to a further descent to objects of

simple forms, and requires a descent to such forms as have simplestraight surfaces, to such as are equiangularly or rectangularly bounded.

But the knowledge of the linear lies at the foundation of the

knowledge of each form ; the forms are viewed and I'ecognized by the

intermediation of the straight-lined.

Therefore, with the perception and consideration of the objects

according to their direction in themselves, the objects composed of



250 EDUCATION OF INIAN.

curved lines are soon dropped, and the objects are at first considered

on the basis of the straight lines ; for example,

the circumscribing surface of a stove,the glass on the clock,

the rim of an inkstand,

are curved

the window-hangings,

the frames of the windows and looking-glass,

the cross-pieces of the window,

are straight-faced and straight.

Now the objects and their parts and boundaries are considered in

respect to their position and their direction from one another ; for

instance,

the two long and the two short window-hangings

are parallel;

one long and one short window-hanging

are right and left from one another

one long and one short side of the window-hangingsare parallel;

the two cross-pieces of two adjoining windows

have the same direction.

So with the consideration of the chair and table legs, etc., the dif-

ferent surfaces, edges, and corners of the table, etc., in respect to then-

direction, position, number, connection, and form.

So with the consideration of the room; its form; the position,

form, and direction of its walls, corners, and angles, etc.

From the consideration of straight-surfaced compound objects we

pass to the consideration of straight-surfaced simple bodies, cubical,

beam-shaped, tabular, pyramidical, etc., bodies.

If, now, the scholar, by the consideration of the surfaces and edges

of these solids, has recognized the linear relation under which and in

which they were viewed, and thus each edge as a line, and so the

linear, which is at the foundation of each form, is clear to him ; then

is developed in the boy the need to look at the linear, and the relation

of lines to one another.

The boy has now developed to the stage at which the instruction

for actual knowledge of form, and, first of all, for perception and

knowledge of form on and in a plane, is needed.

The knowledge of straight-lined forms on and in a p)lane begins

with consideration of one and single lines (at first unconnected, and,




ill respect to position and direction, as parallel; ha\dng the right

direction and not parallel ; and the latter again, as running right and

left, and having the same inclination), and with seeking out how the

number, position, and direction of the lines reciprocally condition one

another.

Then the consideration advances to the combinations, and shows

how many can be combined and uncombined, firstly in general ; sec-

ondly, according to the number of the points ; thirdly, according to

the relation of the position of the ends to the points of union of

the lines, either inside or outside of the points of union.

The next stepis

consideration of the directresult

of lines combinedin points, the angles in respect to their number and in respect to their

relations to the lines and points of union ; that is, consideration of

the angles in respect to position and form.

Next comes consideration of the lines in reference to the space

which they enclose, and consideration of the form of this space condi-

tioned first by the number and position of the lines, then by the

number, form, and position of the angles, the number, form, and posi-

tion of the corners.

As hitherto closed spaces or formed surfaces were considered each

by itself, they must now be considered in combination, first with

lines, then with angles, and finally with surfaces. Surfaces are

combined with surfaces alike in kind and name, and unlike in both,

and, again, either intersecting one another in points, or in lines

(sides), or in surfaces (planes).

The concluding point is where several surfaces alike in name but

unlike in kind, and especially several squares and equilateral tri-

angles are combined in one form ; therefore squares and triangles

(forms in other respects differing in kind) are found again in a

third; for instance, three squares combined and intersecting one

another define a dodecagon by their corners;four squares combined in

the same way also condition a dodecagon by their corners. The

dodecagon is therefore the connecting form of the ternary and quater-

nary ; but the dodecagon points to the polygon ;

and the polygon

without corners is the circle. The limit of the knowledge of form,

by means of forms limited by straight lines, is therefore the point at

which they designate, require, and condition the circle.

To carry through the internal part of this instruction, and thereby

to show the living wholeness of the most peculiar laws which these

considerations bring to perception, and which recur in peculiar forms




in the different subjects, especially in number and the laws of number,

is rendered impossible by the want of space as well as by the lack of

representations of form which are excluded by the purpose of this

work ;yet what is most essential concerning the course of teaching,

particularly concerning the nature of the knowledge of space, will be

noticed in the following stages of cultivation of the boys and scholars.

There is but one more remark to make here ; namely, that the instruc-

tion in the knowledge of form, at this stage of the boy's development,

has to retain the frequently-returning representation and actual view

of the forms far more than to require too quickly the perception of the

truths in their generality, abstracted from, form, and also from indi-

vidual and personal representing. Too compound connections of

relations, and the sequence of conclusions which are consequently also

too compound, must be avoided, at this stage. Each relation is viewed

purely by itself and for itself, but in as many forms as possible, and

in quite simple evident combinations.

The consideration of lines having like inclination leads out from

form, especially to free drawing.

exercises in speech.

Section 101.

We now turn to a quite different side of the instruction, the pure

opposite of that just considered; for the scarcely considered subject of

that instruction was visible, and could be held fast. The subject, or

really the material of this instruction, is audible and vanishing ; there-

fore the tAvo subjects are opposite to, yet like one another, completing

one another, and therefore belonging together: the recognized and

appropriated form seeks to give again the object ; it is the province of

language also to portray the object.

It was the business and purpose of the language exercises to viewthe objects of the outside world correctly and clearly, and to point

them out clearly and precisely by words. The exercises in speech

deal with language as material to use for representation;they deal

with the exercises for the knowledge and correct use of this material

as an audible one ; and, first of all, again with the knowledge, practice,

and attaining of consciousness of the way and manner in which man,




as it were, creates and at the same time forms the material by means

of his organs of speech.

Therefore the exercise of speech considers the tcord purely by

itself, and wholly abstracted from the object.

The exercises in speech have, therefore, the pui'pose of bringing the

boy to the knowledge of, and clear insight into, language as material.

From this, the connection of language before pointed out, espe-

cially of the original word, and its different kinds of parts, with the

objects to be designated and their properties ; or in other words, the

consideration of the necessary opposition yet likeness between lan-

guage and object,— the icord-knoidedge,— now necessarily comes outas a new branch of instruction.

The different size of the words is the first thing which comes to

our notice in considering the word as such ;and the scholar also must

be brought to perceive this by the exercises in speech.

But the size of a word is at first recognized by the greater or less

number of its syllables. The different number of syllables in each

word is, therefore, the first thing which is brought to the insight of

the scholar by the exercises in speech, and he is to know and distin-

guish the words as composed of one, two, three, and more parts.

Next to the number of the syllables there comes up for considera-

tion the f?(ê?Tr2ce o/K??// o/^/ê^ârfs of each syllable. A prevailing

remark is, that there is no syllable without a voice-sound (vowel).

To learn to know the different voice-sounds, and their dilferent kinds,

is now the next requirement.

The voice-sounds aj^pear here as simple and compound, and theformer again as principal and secondary. The difference between the

voice-sounds and the different kinds of voice-sounds lead directly to

the observation of the different use of the organs of speech, especially

the different positions of the mouth, and to the conception of the

dependence of the purity and certainty of the voice-sounds upon the

precision and suitableness of the opening of the mouth, etc.

If, now, the nature and manner of origination of the voice-sounds

is recognized as far as the stage of development permits, the parts of

the words which form, as it were, the bodies of the vowels (the conso-

nants), impress themselves upon our observation. They soon show

the essential difference, that some, brought forward and considered

alone, are still, in a certain way, audible; these consonants are the

open sounds : but others are almost inaudible, because they close the

organs of speech ; these are the closed sounds.




Both open and closed sounds show the further peculiarity of being

predominantly connected ^Yith certain organs of speech, the lips, the

nose, etc. ; and so the open sounds, first of all, are distinguished as

nose-sounds (nasal), lip-sounds (labial), tongue-sounds (lingual), teeth-

sounds (dental), ^;a/aê-sounds (palatal), tJwoat-sounds (gutteral), and

lung-sounds (aspirate). The closed sounds are distinguished in the

same manner.

The open and closed sounds show, as compared with one another

and in reference to their origination, the essential difference, that, in

their origination and production, the organs of speech are either used

with more or less or medium exertion of strength, or else in a different

way ; and thus different slightly-altered open and closed sounds are

produced by the same organ.

Not only does the dependence of the pure, precise utterance of the

elements of words, and consequently the dependence of the whole

mother-tongue upon the exact and sure use of the organs of speech,

become clear to the scholar, but he comes thus to a clear conception

of the activity of these organs, which activity conditions and lies at

the foundation of each word-element, and he also gains an insight

into the way in which this is done. Consequently there comes to the

boy by degrees the divination of the inner active coherence of the

activity of the spirit, of the body, and of Nature, as, in the subject

before us, speech is the product of the spirit through the action of the

body, and is a corresponding satisfying image of the way in which

the inner as well as the outer world represent themselves to him.

Thusthis actively-producing, developing course of instruction in

speech shows in its progress that the formation and development of

speech, the speech itself, is in itself a great living whole, a life-whole.

Between the different kinds of sharply-defined elements of words, the

voice-sounds, the open and the closed sounds, there are some inter-

mediate ones.

Further, three different elements of words generally seem to belong

to each organ of speech, one of which requires a harder, the second a

sharper, and the third a softer or more gentle exertion of strength bythe organ of speech.

Far more proceeds from this subject that can be given by the

teacher ; but few indications are here given on account of limited

space.




First of all, in order to lead the scholar to the perception and

knowledge of the difference in words in respect to the number of

syllables, the teacher pronounces a word of one syllable, and, at the

same time, in order to make visible the quantity of the parts, makes a

horizontal beat with his right hand, then counts one, and makes

another beat at the same time ; for example,

Teacher i'^^^^'--^^^^ ' ' ' "

^"'I at the same time.

( beats : — — >

(beat) (beat)

Teacher. " Seek out words with which we can also make only one

beat, and can also count only one."

Proceeding in the same way as the teacher,

The scholar |^^^'^

'

^'^"'^" * ' "

^"Î both at the same time.

( says : Jiead .... one \

\ beats : — — )

These and each of the following exercises are continued until the

scholars readily do what the teacher requires. The boys are best led

to attend to the teacher's requirement by the word " attention."

That which is found and spoken by each individual is, as usual,

recited by all, thus becoming a common possession.

Again,

Teacher -j^

.... i,

no r

exactly at the same time,

(beat, beat) (beat, beat)

" Find words with each of which we can also make two beats,

andcount one, two."

" Mantel ; kindly ; morning."

The beating with the hand, in order to make the size of the word

and the number of its syllables outwardly visible in space, is necessary

because it is a deeply-grounded, incontrovertible requisite with all

instruction to connect all that is to be known by the scholar and

brought forward by the teacher with something which is of an oppo-

site natm-e : hence that which is lifeless and quiescent, the form, with

that which is living and moving, the word ; the word, the audible, the

living, with the space, the visible, the movement ; the inward with the

more outward; and the reverse.

Now the more precise the opposite is, if it yet corresponds to the

nature which is opposite to it, the clearer is also the impression, and

the more securely does the scholar hold it fast.




In the case before us it is x)articiilaiiy important for the scholar to

beat with his own hand, because the actual and audible size of the

word is thus made perceptible to the, feeling.

Proceed as above with words of three, four, and five parts.

When the scholars have finished the correct denoting and numeri-

cal defining of the parts, the teacher says :

—" Words with which we can make one beat, or count one, are called

words of one syllable.'"

" What are words with which we can make one beat, or count one,

called?"

Continuing in the same way up to five.

" Xame several words of one syllable."

So with words of two, three, four, five and more syllables.

Now, without choice of the number of syllables, the scholars will

give words of one or more syllables, in order to determine the number

of the syllables ; or the teacher Avill determine the number of the

syllables, and the scholars must seek out words having that number

lastly, the boys must themselves determine the words as well as decide

upon the number of syllables of each.

When the scholars can readily determine the parts, the instruction

advances.

Hitherto the size of the word was determined by the number of its

syllables ; but the nature and significance of the word depends not so

much upon its size as upon the kind of its individual parts and their

connection.

Here the first remark which urges itself upon our notice is, that

there can be no syllable, and therefore no word, among the parts of

which there is not at least one voice-sound (vowel), and that there-

fore the voice-sound makes, as it were, the soul or the spirit of each

syllable.

That the scholar may himself perceive this law of language, he

must now go through with the following exercises.

The teacher utters a word of one syllable which ends with a voice-

sound, and, after he has pronounced the word, makes the sound itself

especially prominent.

" Go, the voice-sound o."

Teacher and scholars together, " Go, the voice-sound 6."

In like manner other words of one syllable ending with the voice-

sounds u, a, e, i, etc., are pronounced ; and these sounds are brought

out to individual perceptions.



îA^ AS A SCHOLAR. 257

If the scholars are ah-eady so far advanced that they can easily

separate the voice-sound from the other parts of the word, the teacher

can begin immediately with the stage which now follows, that is, he

can utter words of one syllable which have the voice-sound at the end,

and let them discover the sound themselves.

Teacher, " /So."

Teacher and scholars together, " So."

That word and voice-sound may become clear to the children, and

fixed on their minds, it is well that each should be spoken two or

three times.

Now teacher questions, "So; the voice-sound?"Scholars answering together, " o."

This question and answer also can be repeated two or three times.

In the same way several words ending in the same voice-sound are

brought forward, first by one, and then by all of the scholars. The

same method is carried out with all the other voice-somids.

In the same way words of one syllable are now brought forward

which hecjin with the voice-sound, followed by such words as have the

voice-sound in the middle.

All this must certainly make the scholars individually sure in dis-

covering and determining the voice-sound. Should, however, some of

the scholars be still uncertain, the teacher should try in the future

exercises to destroy this uncertainty, and must keep a sharp eye on

these scholars especially.

By the previous exercises the scholar was led to determine with

certainty the voice-sound in words of one syllable.

The teacher now asks the scholars :—" Is there any word of one syllable which contains no voice-

sound ?"

They answer to this in concert and repeatedly, " There is no word

of one syllable which does not contain a voice-sound."

In the same way the voice-sounds in words of two and more sylla-

bles are brought to the definite knowledge of the scholar.

In order to avoid confusion, it is well to hold fast the voice-sounds

of the first and second syllables, while those of the remaining sylla-

bles alternate.

The laws which find a place here will be easily perceived by an

observant teacher ; and, if his scholars are fitted to receive recapitulat-

ing laws, he can make them observe them.

Should the scholars be now still too undeveloped to comprehenci




these laws, prominence will be first given them w^hen they recur the

second or third time.

That the slower or more extended, and the quicker or more com-

prehensive procedure with the course depends upon the scholar's

power of comprehension, and that in the former case single exercises

are to be interpolated, w^hile in the latter case, single exercises are to

be quickly ended, need be said only to the teacher w^ho is just begin-

ning the W'Ork of instruction.

As before the number of the syllables wâs determined by the

teacher, and the scholars wêre required to discover suitable words, so

noW' thevoice-sounds

andtheir

sequence are given and determined bythe teacher, and the scholars are required to seek out the correspond-

ing words ;for instance :

—Teacher, "oy, i, y."

Scholars, " Boyishly," etc.

The bodies of the voice-sounds (consonants) are brought to the

knowledge of the scholar in the same wây that the vowels were.

The teacher says, " Moo."

Scholars (repeating several times in concert), "Moo." "Try to

say the word moo, but without the oo." They try it ; the pure

sound m becomes audible.

In the same way several other wôrds of one syllable beginning

with m, and ending with a vowel-sound (such as maT/, my, or mow) are

given, and the sound m noticed in each.

" Does m sound like any of the voice-sounds which you have -

learned to know V"

"No."

" But what can be said of the audible m ?"

"It sounds closed."

" Now what can and must we call m in contrast with the voice-

sounds ?"

" A closed sound."

Together, " m is a closed sound."

" Say new."" New ; new ; new."

" Try to say new without the sound ew'*

Together, " 7i ; n ; n."

" Where shall wê class the w, with the voice-sounds or with the

open sounds? " — " With the open sounds."

Together, " n is an open sound."




In like manner the ng is brought forward.

"Make the sound n audible, and find which of your organs of

speech are particularly and essentially active."

"Do the same with the sound ng."

" What must therefore these sounds be called ?"

'^Nose-sounds.'"

" How can they be distinguished from one another?"

" As soft and sharp nose-sounds." " Why ?"

" By what organs of speech, and with what use of these organs,

are the sharp nose-sound n, and the soft nose-sound ng, brought

out?"

In the same way the scholar is brought to the individual percep-

tion and knowledge of each consonant.

Now in certain sequences, and also without precise connection,

single directions are given to the scholars, and single questions asked

of them ; for instance :—

" Make the sharp tongue-sound."

" How do you bring out the soft tooth-sound ? " " Show me what

you do with your organs of speech to make the soft and the sharp

closed lip-sounds." Etc.

Little as it is possible to represent the inner relationship and active

connection of even only the primitive parts of words which compose

language on a surface by lifeless grouping, as this developing course

of instruction presents it to the scholar, yet this may stand for an

indication, though only a slight one.

Voice Sounds.




Closed Sounds.

Lip-sounds. Teeth-sounds. Palate-sounds.

Soft b th X

Dull m d g

[The letters in which two organs of speech are used must be

determined by the teacher ; enough has been given to show Froebel's

idea. — Tr.]

By means of the instruction hitherto given, the pupil is now so

far advanced that he can recognize with exactness and certainty each

element of a word ; that he can point out each and make it audible

and perceptible according to its nature ; also that he is not only con-

scious of the activity of the organs of speech by which each element

respectively is produced, but can give an account of it to himself and

others.

The next stage of this instruction brings this capacity to dexterity

and certainty by practice, which is given in manifold ways.

The teacher pronounces words indiscriminately, and lets the

scholars make the syllables and elements of these words audible andperceptible

He lets them name the S3^11ables in their sequence ; or

The teacher utters several parts of words in a certain sequence,

and lets the scholars form the word from these.

These latter exercises, however, will advance in definite succession

from the simple and easy to the compound and difficult. However,

every observant and thinking teacher can make such a series for him-

seK, and the more active the teacher himself is,— I might say the more

he hopes and strives to learn more himself, and the more he seeks to

promote the wholeness of the instruction,— the more valuable will it

become to him, and the more rich in blessing will it be to his scholars.

With this certainty, readiness, and clearness concerning all the

elements of words in respect to their use and their grouping, and also

especially in respect to their inner necessary vivid connection, this

instruction at this stage of the boy's developmentis

concluded whenthe length and shortness of the vowel-sounds in the syllables (not the

length and shortness of the syllables themselves) have been brought

forward and distinguished, which at this stage is particularly impor-

tant for the writing which now follows.

At the following and later stage of instruction there goes out at

this point a new branch, namely, the consideration which renders the




scholar conscious of the length and shortness of the syllables, and

thus of the laws of movement contained in the words, and the mani-

fold connections to parts and wholes of movement thereby condi-

tioned.

The requirement which presents itself at this stage of instruction

and as instruction is that of connecting the elements of words with

certain signs, of making the audible transitory speech visible and

abiding ; that is, the necessity for ivrit'mg presents itself.

1>.

WRITING.

Section 102.

By writing and instruction in writing is here understood by no

means fine writing and writing as an art, but merely the readiness

and skill to make the transitory, audible words visible and abiding by

means of corresponding signs which always remain the same ; and thus

to make it possible for one's self and others later, by looking at these

signs and their connection, not only to think of the same words, and'

thus of the same ideas, but also to utter the same words either to

one's self or others in order in the hearing, to call forth again the

same first ideas, conceptions, and perceptions to which they owe their

peculiar connections ; this is reading, more of which will be given in

the following section.

The more important consideration with this instruction in writing

is the choice of the characters ; they must necessarily have the follow-

ing properties :—

They must have a peculiar form for each element, must therefore

be easily distinguishable from one another, and yet, like the elements

themselves, they must stand in a certain connection with one another,

or at least point to such a connection.The original Roman, the old Latin, or the old Phoenician script,

as it appears when divested of all ornament, shows a certain con-

nection.

If you describe a square, in this a circle, diagonal lines from the

corners of the square, straight lines from the halves of the sides and

also parallel to these, then from the two upper angles of the square




oblique lines toward the middle of the lower side, and in the same

way from the two lower angles towârd the middle of the upper side,

and finally draw through the just-named middles of the upper and

lower sides and through the middle point of the whole aline returning

upon itself in the form of a somewhat compressed 8 ; all the characters

of the oldest Roman, or, if you prefer to call it so, the Phoenician

script, can be noted in this truly symmetrical whole with very slight

imagination, and in a very recognizable way.

This outward connection of these written characters (similar to

an anagram) may indeed scarcely coincide with then- original inner

coherence. This is nothing to the purpose; ujitil the true inner

coherence of the original written characters, of which I have no doubt,

has been discovered, the symmetrical whole above described will at

least outwardly show the scholar the possibility of such a coherence.

It sufiices to know that the Latin capitals at least appear, by means

of this whole, in outward coherence and outward unity.

Besides, it is a peculiar fact, and one that should not be overlooked,

that the Latin capitals make a very agreeable and particularly satis-

factory impression upon the younger boys.

The most essential point in the use of the characters above named

for the first writing is, that these written signs are easily understood

by the scholars at this stage, and can be easily and quickly repre-

sented according to the different positions and lengths of the vertical,

horizontal, and oblique lines already so much used.

The instruction in writing, directly joining the exercises of

speech, and actually proceeding from them as a necessary condition,

is as follows :—

The teacher first develops the necessity of the individual writing

signs, in his scholars, by leading them to perceive that not only the

knowledge of the precise signs for the simple elements of words, but

also skill in the use and combination of these signs is required.

The writing itself is done on the often-mentioned squared slate ; it

begins with that one of the written characters which is the easiest to

represent,— a vertical line denoting the vowel i.

The teacher begins :—

" Sound the voice-sound i several times."

The scholars do so, ''i; i; i."




"Make on yoiu- slates three times a vertical line of two-fold

length, and say after making each, ' This denotes the voice-somid /.'

The scholars do so.

"I

, this denotes the voice-sonnd ?."

"I

, this denotes the voice-somid ^ ;" etc.

" You have now made, three times, the form which denotes the

voice-sound i."

" AVhat have you done ?"

"Each of you may make on his slate several times more the form

which denotes the voice-sound i."

"Make on your slate a vertical line of two-fold length." [The

teacher always does the same on the blackboard, after the scholars

have done it on the slates.] " From the upper end of this line draw

down a wîole slanting line of two-fold length ; from the lower end of

this line draw a vertical line upward."



" We have," etc.

" Make this sign three times on jôur slates, and say each time, 'This

denotes the open sound n.'"

" Say the word m three times."

" What are the elements of the word in ?"

" The voice-sound i, and the sharp nose-sound 7z."

" Can you make the signs for both ?"

" Now write three times the word m."

They wi'ite :—

IN — IN — IN —

[The teacher observes whether it is correctly written ; then effaces

all, and requires them to w^rite the same word several more times. It

is well as soon as possible, while the signs are still few, to introduce

the following questions.]

"How many written signs (or letters) have you now? "

"

Can you make any other words wdth these letters?"

Should the names of the letters have already obtruded themselves,

it is well to keep them as much as possible in the background, so that

the thing itself may make a firmer impression on the mind of the

scholar ; but as the name comes in as a demand not to be rejected, it

may be written several times as a name, so that the scholar may grasp

and hold fast the distinction between the thing itself (the vowel or




consonant), the name of the thing (for example, en), and the sign

for the thing (for example, N), and never confound them. To early-

impress this three-fold distinction on the scholars is very important

for the following instruction.

The teaching continues :—

"ei ; ei ; ei. ^— Repeat this voice-sound several times."

"Is the voice-sound ei a simple sound?"

"No; it is a compound sound." This the exercises in speech

developed.

Since it is not a simple sound, it is well to denote it, not by a simple,

but by a compoundsign.

The teacher, waiting : —" This is the sign for the ei,

El

"What lines form the sign El, and how are they joined together?"

"Write these signs several times, and pronounce each time the

voice-sound ei."

"

What have youdone ?

"

" How many signs or letters can you now WTite ?"

" Three, - I- N - El."

" What words can you write with these ?"

Teacher and scholars find together, first the words ah'eady written,

then the words made possible by the new sign.

" Good ; we will write them."

" What elements make each of the \\'ords ?"

" Write each of these words three times."

"How many words can you now write ?"

" What words can you now write ?"

" Write all the words that you can, one, two, three times."

[At the beginning of each lesson at least, all the words which were

newly written in the last are repeated.]

" Pronounce the voice-sound u several times."

The teacher writes U, and says, at the same time, " This is the

sign for the voice-sound w."

" Write this sign also several times."

" "What words can you now write with this, and the signs you have

before made ?"

1 Ei, which in English is a digraph, is, in German, a diphthong. The remarks and

questions concerning it are retained to show tlie proper mode of procedure with our own

diphthongs. — Tr.



INIAN AS A SCHOLAR. 265

Teacher and scholars find words together.

All these words are analj'zed and written.

" Proceed in the same way with the voice-sound o."

" Make a line of two-fold length ; from the upper end of it a half-

slanting line of single length; from the lower end of this draw up

toward the right a half-slanting line of the same length; from the

upper end of this, draw a vertical line of two-fold length."



" You have made the sign for the closed sound m."

" What have you made V"

" Write several times on your slates the sign for the closed sound

m, and say each time, ' This denotes the closed sound m'

; or make

the sound every time you write the sign."

" Write several times the closed sound m"

Proceed in the same way with the voice-sound a ; this gives a?i,

and man.

The course of instruction continues to advance in the simplest

wôrds.

" Make the rolling tongue-sound r, r, r."

The teacher writes R on the blackboard, says as above, and

requires the scholars to write this sign several times.

'• What words can you now write with this sign, and those which

you have before made?" Teacher and scholars find the words

together. They now progress to v ; from that to w ; then to I ; to &, to

t, to I', etc., etc., inaccordance with the law of advancing from the

easier to the more difficult ; but especially on account of the immedi-

ately following connection of reading-print.

The most important point of this course of instruction, which is,

however, as easily recognized as represented, is that the boy never

learns any thing which he is not immediately required to use in many

ways ; for it is a law of the instruction that every newly-learned letter

must be connected with all the former ones ; that is, that the scholar

must seek out all the words whicli can be written with this new letter

and those which were previously learned. This gives new charm and

life to the instruction.

From the words of one syllable we advance to those of two and

more syllables by a way of teaching as easy to define as to represent.



266 EDUCATION OF ^FAN.

When the schoLirs are tolerably assured in tlie visible representation

of each word which they have heard, spoken, or only thought, words are

enunciated without any great choice, which the scholars must write

or the scholars are allowed to write words, and soon little thoughts as

they occur. When the boys have advanced to this point, they are

required to copy on paper all which they have written on the slate,

and which the teacher has examined; this is made the rule of the

school. This also gives at once a ready means of employing the boys

wîose work has been already examined by the teacher while he is cor-

recting the work of the other scholars ; for it need scarcely be said,

that the correctionmust always be done by the scholars themselves

under the direction of the teacher. It is also very advisable with

this, as with similar instruction, that the advanced scholar, who to a

certain extent is, in this respect, superior to another, should sit by the

other, and be charged wdth examining and correcting the wôrk of his

weaker companion. This proceeding has a many-sided inward and

outward utility which can scarcely be established by words : first, all

the scholars are kept constantly employed ; secondly, the weaker ones

are impelled by it to emulate the stronger ; and thirdly, the stronger,

by this means, tests what he knows and can do, thereby coming to the

knowledge of what is yet lacking to him js for it cannot but be that

the teacher will frequently notice mistakes w^hich have been overlooked

by the correcting scholar, or rather which he has not recognized as

such. Xo prominence need at first be given to the fact that this

instruction in writing leads directly to actual writing, and prevents

this teaching, now as wearisome as it is difficult, from being a tedious

independent subject of instruction.

This instruction is closed when the scholar can readily represent in

this way all the ideas and thoughts of which he is conscious within

the circle of his life, and can thus, as it were, represent his inner life

itself (this is similar to the stage of representation of line, color, and

wôrd-wholes previously recognized with the line, color, and language

exercises) ; for man, the middle, the general point of reference, is found,

and the representation of his inner nature is made possible at and in

his first stage ; there, by lines and colors, as before by movable and

plastic material, and, as here, by wôrd ; there, with the language

exercises by the vanishing, here, by the abiding wôrd. Thus each

stage of the instruction must, in a certain respect, be a whole in itself,

a whole representation of the inner nature of man. It must make

possible the representation of some kind of a whole in refei-ence and

relation to the inner nature of man.




By this requirement just mentioned, namely, that the scholar must

transcribe upon paper in its corrected state what he has represented

on the squared slate as his own ideas or his own perceptions, and which

has been corrected for him by a more advanced pupil (which has a

many-sided but easily conceivable utility), the boy is soon led to the

essential need of a quicker way of "\^Titing. This, therefore, is now

the point at which the learning to wTite our current hand appears as a

branch of instruction;for, as has been already said, each new instruc-

tion should be linked with the need for it in the boy, and should

meet this need. The province of the earlier and preceding instruction,

andthe

demand made uponit, is

to developthe

need for each follow-ing and necessary instruction with precision and activity, in the boy.

The province of the later instruction, and the demand made upon it,

is, on the contrary, to meet those awakened earlier needs as soon, as

exhaustively, and as satisfyingly as is possible in accordance with the

laios of spiritual health. Om- present manner of instruction and teach-

ing vip to this moment fails in these two simple and essential points,

as well as in other essential points which clearly proceed from what

has been hitherto expressed and brought forward. Xot only to bring

this want to unequivocal recognition and insight, but also immediately

to set up a course of teaching which avoids these errors, is the require-

ment of the art of instruction toward which, not only we, but the

whole human race, at the stage of manly development at which it now

stands, needs to strive, and toward which we also, being conscious of

om-selves and the time in which we live, need to strive.

READING.

Section 103.

Reading is the pure reverse of writing. Writing and reading are

as opposite as giving and taking, and as taking presupposes a giving,

indeed, as, strictly speaking, one neither may nor can take any thing,

indeed cannot at all understand how to take any thing, cannot receive

and use what is taken, if one has not beforehand actually given, so

from this point of view also the reading must come later than the

writing in the case before us.




The course of instruction proceeds necessarily from the nature of

the thing, and is just as easy to recognize as to represent ; for the boy

can actually already read according to the priniitive and subordinate

idea which is connected with this word. Keading was already the

second inseparable act with every word which the boy has hitherto

written ; an act of which special use was made when he later copied

what he had himself thought or seen.

Reading, in the usual sense and according to the usual school-

meaning, that is, reading printed letters and words, is now very easily

attained, and what would otherwise have been scarcely accomplished

in morethan a year, and by burdening the boy, he can now very easily

accomplish in a few days with pleasure.

The first thing necessary is that the like significance of the small

printed letters with the Roman capitals hitherto used for writing

should be recognized. It is not sufficient merely to place them side

bv side, and say, for instance, / is /, o is 0, u is U, etc., but it is espe-

cially important to demonstrate how the principal strokes of one kind

of letter are contained in the other, which is very possible if a little

attention be paid to it.

With the further progress of learning to read print, any reading-

book can be used.

As a means of connection between writing with the often-defined

script and reading print, it is very useful to have the scholars first

WTite certain exercises from the reading-book upon the squared slates

with the script hitherto used, and then read them in the reading-book

with comparison.

The point which the boy must reach by this instruction at this

stage of his total development is that he read precisely and clearly

with correct utterance of letters and words ; and that he also point

out the different kinds of separations and consequent groupings con-

ditioned by the connection ;and also indicate different pauses by their

length, and keep them in mind. The boy is thereby developed to such

an extent that it is possible for him to appropriate to himself the

thoughts of others ; to test his own thoughts and sensations by the

thoughts and sensations of others ; and thus to raise himself to each

possible stage of development and cultivation conditioned by human

nature as well as by his own individual nature. In accordance with

its nature the higher descriptive reading is postponed to the following

stage of development.




survey and conclusion of the whole.

Section 104.

We have thus delineated man from the beginning of his existence,

as he becomes and appears, on all the sides and in all the stages

and conditions of the development of his nature up to the stage

of boyhood and within it ; we have also brought before our view, in

their inner living coherence, in their necessary reciprocal condition-

ing, and natural ramifications, and in their whole importance, the

means by which man can and will be developed in this space of time

which is under consideration, in a manner corresponding to and

satisfying the requisition of this space of time, and that of his whole

nature, if his aim be completeness.

If we now survey all that has been hitherto recognized and

expressed in reference to this, we see that many phenomena in the

life of the boy have as yet by no means a particular, precise direction.

So, for example, the employment with colors has by no means as yet

in view the training of a painter ; and just as little has the emplo}''-

ment with tune and song the object of training a musician. But these

employments aim at and produce, first of all, in man, an all-sided

development and presentation of his nature; they are, in general, the

needful food for the spirit ; they are the ether in which the spirit

breathes and lives that it may gain power, strength, and, I might add,

extent, because the spiritual qualities given by God to man, which

proceed from his spirit in all directions with irresistible necessity,

necessarily appear as manifoldness, and must be satisfied as such, and

met in manifold directions.

Wherefore we might at some time conceive that we have a very

disturbing influence on the boy's nature by too much repressing and

suppressing those necessary, many-sided directions of the spirit in thehuman being as he advances toward maturity ; by even believing that

we do a service to God and man, especially to the boy himself, that

we favor his future earthly welfare, inner peace, and heavenly salva-

tion, by cutting off these directions and those qualities of the spirit,

and especially by then ingrafting and cramming others in their

place.




God does not cram and graft ; therefore the human spirit, as a

divine spirit, must not be crammed. But God develops the smallest

and the most incomplete in constantly advancing succession, accord-

ing to eternal laws founded in and developing from themselves. AndGod-likeness should be man's highest aim in thought and action,

especially when he stands in fatherly relations to his children, as God

does to man.

AVe should finally, in reference to the education of our children,

thoughtfully reflect upon the fact that the kingdom of God is the

kingdom of the spiritual ; that therefore the spiritual in man, and con-

sequently in our children, is at least a part of the spiritual kingdom,

that is, of the kingdom of God, and that therefore the geiieral cultiva-

tion of the spiritual in man, in our children, is the cultivation of that

which is actually human, that is, of the divine as an isolated phenome-

non ; and we should devote our attention to it as such, being con-

vinced that each one who has been genuinely formed to a human

being is then also educated for each single requisition, for each single

need in civil and social life.

We may now say, indeed, " This is all very good, but it is no longer

applicable to our sons; the application and use of it is too late for

them, for they are already in the last quarter of boyhood. What are

they now to do with this wholly general and fundamental instruction ?

They must necessarily receive definite individual instruction directly

bearing upon their future vocation ; for the time of their entrance

into civil life, the time when they must think of earning their living,

or assisting us in our business, is too near."

We are right ; our sons are old for what they have yet to learn.

But why have we not given them as children and in the beginning

of boyhood what their spirits must require ?

Shall the boys now lose this development and training for their

whole lives ?

We now sa}^, " When the boys are grown up, they can retrieve all

that ; they will then have enough time free for that."

Fools that we are!

When we say this, we are contradicted by ourinner nature, if we will only listen to, and attend to the significance

of what it says. Here and there, something may be retrieved, to

determine which does not belong here ; but in general what has been

omitted and neglected in the education and development of man in

boyhood is never retrieved.

Do we as men and fathers, and perhaps also as mothers, not wish




to be sincere at* last, and do we wish to hide from ourselves the never-

healing wounds which bleed all through life, or the callous places in

our minds, never again to be softened, or the dark spots upon our

souls (caused by wiping away noble, estimable sensations and

thoughts) from which our souls can never again be clear, all which is

produced by the misguidance and misleading of our youth and espe-

cially of our boyhood ?

Do we not wish to see in ourselves all the noble germs which were

pressed out, caused to decay, and even killed in the mind of man at

that stage of life ?

Willwe

not confess this to om'selves,and consider

thisfor the

benefit of our children ?

We have an important charge; we have an extended vocation ; we

have a profitable business; we have versatility of life; we rejoice in

fine, polished, social training ; can all this prevent the gaps and

patches of om- inner training from coming before our souls when we

question them, and can it destroy in us the feeling of this condition of

inner training which is caused chiefly by the imperfection and incom-

pleteness of our youthful education ?

Therefore, if we would have our sons become capable, whole

men, if they are already even in the last third or fourth stage of

boyhood, and have not yet learned and developed what they should

have learned and developed in childhood and boyhood, they must

necessarily return to childhood and to the beginning of boyhood in

order at least not to continue to delay doing what is still possible

to do, and to retrieve what it is yet possible to retrieve.

It may indeed be that our sons will come a year or two later to

that at which they aim, but is it not far better that they should come

to a true aim than to a false one ?

We wish to be live men, and do we so little understand the requi-

sition of true, genuine life ? ^Ve wish to be men of business, and men

who understand our calculations, and do we so little understand the

business which yet lies so near to each, and can we so very badly cal-

culate in circumstances so highly important ?

We pride ourselves on being so rich in the experience of life, and

yet this experience shows itself so little where we might reap the

refreshing fruits of it.

We generally disdain to cast back into our own youth the examin-

ing glance from which we could learn so much that would be a bless-

ing to us and to our children; for this requisition also— " turn back




observantly into your own youth, and awaken, wârm,- and vivify the

eternal youth of your mind "— lies in the words of Jesus,— become as

little children.

As it is generally true that much that Jesus said in his time and

to his companions, the Spirit also now says to us and to our time, and

as generally in all human references with regard to the whole human

race, ^^hat was said in the time of Jesus, and especially what was said

at the beginning of a quite new view of life, finds its application to

the attainment of a new and higher stage of human perfection, and is,

as it were, repeatedly spoken anew to the w^hole human race, so now

is said also to us,"If you wall not fulfil in youi'selves and in your

children all which man spiritually requires at the stage of childhood

and boyhood, if you will not give this to yourselves and to your

children, you wall not attain w^hat has swelled and swells your hoping

soul in the happiest, most blessed times of your life ; that for which

your heart longed with deep, yearning sighs in the noblest hours of

your life ; and which swells and ever swelled the souls of the noblest

men, and filled and now fills their hearts."

If wê now reduce to a point the stages and the aim of the cultiva-

tion W'hich man has attained by the manner of developing education

and instruction hitherto brought forward, we perceive with great

clearness the fact that the boy has come to the point of divining his

independent spiritual self; he feels and recognizes himself as a

spiritual whole. There is roused in him the capacity of taking in a

whole, as well in its unity as in its manifoldness ;and there has ger-

minated in him the capacity of outwardly representing a whole as

such, and in its necessary parts, and of representing himself in his

unity, and in the manifoldness of his nature, in and by manifoldness.

We therefore find and recognize man as already fitted even in boy-

hood for the highest and most important task of life,— the fulfilment

of his destiny, his vocation, the representation of the divine nature

withm him.

The future life of man in corresponding stages of his development

and cultivation from boyhood to manhood is devoted to raising this

capacity to skill and certainty, to consciousness, to insight, and clear-

ness, to a freely-chosen life. The continuation of this work, and the

life of the writer, are devoted to demonstrating the way and means

for this, and to introducing these into life and in actuality. And as

boys of the age to which this book belongs, of fresh spirit, glad

courage, joyous mind, and happy life, who, dui-ing the writing of the




book entered the educating circle from which it proceeds, and who

mostly surrounded the writer during his writing, playing, never

becoming weary, requiring ever new satisfying and nourishment of

their impulses to activity and life, and so freely forming their being

from themselves, are his security (if an outward security be needed)

that he has written the truth ; they are also his secmity that he will

write the truth.



f rcss of

Boston.





1137 D117b33Wheelock College Library



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WHEELOCK COLLEGE LIBP4RV

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AUTHOR

The education_ofl_mani .—TITLE

Fro- bel %^^K^^^' ''

The education of man. F9ê2

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Wheelock College Library

Boston, Mass.



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Education of Man

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